Through Your Eyes
by Stealiana
Summary: Saitou Hajime has avoided women as a rule - until Tokio. Have his instincts finally led him astray? Saitou POV. Companion fic: Through My Eyes, Tokio POV.
1. Prologue

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Every man has a weakness, and for too many, it is women. Thus it seems logical to avoid females in order to prevent vulnerability. But one could also argue women make men stronger - they are perhaps the most inherently demanding creatures to walk the face of the Earth. Tolerating a woman prone to gossip and other useless prattle in an effort to ensnare attention is enough to make an unsuspecting listener's ears bleed. A miserable experience, but the victim comes out all the wiser for it.

Handling the delicately balanced emotions of women is an art, that I will not deny - and it is one I have never been particularly skilled at. As a result, I remained as far away from the creatures as possible. I pride myself in the fact that I do not lie to myself, and I know my own faults. When I encounter a skill I cannot master completely, then I will shun it entirely. Some would call it stubbornness, others, failure. What they forget, however, is that in doing so I never commit myself halfway, nor waste my time spreading my efforts over a wide range of useless activity when I can hone my abilities for a specific undertaking. That is how I fight on the battlefield, and that is how I live. Always to the very apex of my potential.

I never believed I would need such a skill anyway - women were a liability, and that was something I could not tolerate. The only ones who seemed to exist were the fat, nosy old women who beat their husbands into submission and the young, timid, but eligible girls that look like mice. I refused to associate with the mice; they declined coming within several feet of me. Not that I cared, such weak-willed creatures were nothing more than a distraction that lesser men indulged in. I was there to fight.

My purpose in coming to Kyoto was to join the Shinsengumi, a military group recently created on the side of the current government. To oversimplify, the organization was the unofficial police force in Kyoto, with the sole intention of maintaining peace and order. The time was coming quickly when all of Japan would be forced to choose which side they would support, but my decision required little effort. There is no efficiency in destroying a system already in place when all that is necessary is to cleanse the current order of its vice. Reflecting my convictions almost to the letter, the Shinsengumi preached a motto of "Aku Soku Zan", obliterating all evil without hesitation, and had gained support from the government as the revolution began to grab hold. My place in the organization was that of third unit commander, which I settled into rather easily, with twelve men under my sword, two sub-commanders and ten fighters. A relatively small group yields a relatively small headache, and there were always twelve asses to beat if something were to go awry. Then again, under my instruction that never happened.

Everything came with minimal trouble to me in Kyoto as I followed my instincts; it seemed they could not steer me wrong. Thought and reason slid into oblivion as my feral intuition ruled my actions, dictating every move with no lapse for hesitation. In hindsight, it is painfully clear when my vision became clouded and my most fundamental desire for companionship took precedence. One night of unguarded predatory glances left me with a ravenous appetite, a desire for that which I most hated. In spite of all my convictions on the evils of women, my instincts led me, not wholly unknowingly, to a purgatory of patience as my mind schemed of a way to capture the prey my instincts howled for.

Her name was Tokio.

The night was warm and the insects chirped, covering the sounds of our footsteps on the grounds as our legs rustled through the grass. We, of course, refers to the Shinsengumi, and we were flexing our newly acquired muscles as protectors of Kyoto. What we were supposed to protect I did not know, the rooms of the inn were filled with sycophants and moronic politicians whose corruption stank more than a horse's ass. But that's how every government is, and ours was no better or worse. At least there were a few officials I greatly respected, as they, for the most part, kept the less moral in check. They were the ones who hired us, they were the ones who paid us, and they were the ones we reported to. For all the idiots who surrounded them, I found I agreed with those in power. Otherwise, I would not have stayed long in Kyoto, for I have no fondness for fools.

As I paced the estate, I found my eyes wandering to the brightly lit rooms from which all the talking and laughing was drifting into the night. Silently making my way past windows and doors, snippets of conversation filtered to my ears.

"Of course this year…"

"It's like I keep telling him…!"

"No side left for those who…"

"Why, yes, I'll have another drink!"

From sheer boredom, I turned to glance through an open doorway, a young woman next to a much older man, speaking with another couple. The elder man was saying rather obstinately,

"Aizu would never succumb, the rebels don't know…"

"Mm. Yet they insist on trying."

"Yes, and in doing so are throwing all of Kyoto into an uproar."

"But you should have nothing to worry about - it is not your sector."

"True, but my daughter, Tokio," he gestured to the girl behind him. "How can she marry someone in such times? All suitable matches put her in considerable danger, but if she waits too long…"

"Yes," the woman across from him nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry - I'm sure she will find a wonderful husband."

"Thank you," the girl smiled, nodding her head politely.

"Of course she will!" The older man turned to look at his daughter's smiling face. "She will marry a good man, that much I will make certain."

"Well, if all goes well, this whole rebellion will be crushed before it has a chance to grab hold." The other man cheerily raised his cup. "Shall we? Ah, but before I forget, there was someone I wanted your lovely daughter to meet… now where did he go?"

The young woman took advantage of the distraction to put a hand on her father's arm.

"May I get some air?" The older man turned to her, his back to the other two now engrossed in finding the young official they knew.

"Tokio, you are here so you may find a good husband, not so you can hide in a corner!"

She dropped her arm and said nothing, merely watching him blankly. Still waiting for permission. Finally, the man sighed and gave in, her smile indicating her satisfaction at having her way.

I realized I was frowning throughout the entire conversation - then again, whenever I began to think upon a subject my lips turned downward, a habit that kept people from interrupting. Not so tonight.

"Saitou-san?" I glared at Okita, irritated that I hadn't sensed his presence earlier.

"What do you want?"

"To know what you're doing." The boy's smile did not falter, making my glower even darker.

"Patrolling the grounds." I answered curtly, turning to walk again, hoping it would send him off. "What's the matter?" I spoke over my shoulder, my voice flat to keep out my irritation. "Are you afraid to be alone in the dark?" A soft laugh dissipated into the underbrush.

"You see right through my act, Saitou-san." I paused.

"Go away, moron. I don't have time to baby-sit. You have a post, go find it." Care was required; I could not be harsher than usual or he would be suspicious.

"Fine, fine." Okita laughed again, making his way into the shadows. "But if you watch too long, you will start to want things you can't have."

I did not move from where I had stopped, cursing him behind an empty expression. What business was it of his what I chose to do? And why the hell was the kid lecturing me when I could mangle his sorry ass?

I turned back to the open doorway to smooth over my anger, and saw her standing outside, looking rather lost against the huge building. A man approached her, most likely the one the couple had been looking for; they exchanged civilities and he attempted to put a hand on her arm. I was too far away to hear the particulars, but she hastily withdrew herself, glaring at the young man as a clear warning that he should keep his distance. Only moments later, he abandoned her to the darkness.

She was no mouse - that was obvious. Possessing a beauty that was subdued and graceful, she was captivating more so in the cold shadows that flickered about the compound than in the warm lights of the party. I made up my mind to go against the one rule I adhered to aside from the Shinsengumi motto.

She would be mine. I knew what I wanted and I'd be damned if I didn't find some way to get it.


	2. Opportunity

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

My plan was simple - I saw every possibility and weighed my options. Like strategizing for a game of go, I knew the actions that would draw my opponents into the position I needed to capture my objective. Carefully balanced on an understanding of the thought processes of those around me, the execution of my manipulation needed to be flawless, requiring time and patience, of which I had plenty. My craving to have the woman, ever present as a suppressed pyre deep behind my self-control, fueled my willingness to tolerate Okita, who was to blindly play a role in my conquest.

The idiot had been accompanying me everywhere, it seemed, during that short lapse of time I had been a part of the Shinsengumi. Like a shadow, he never left my side, occasionally attempting to converse. My answers remained clipped and concise no matter the topic, but Okita did not mind. When I called him an idiot, he smiled. When I swore at him, he would laugh and ask me to drink sake with him. Never did I accept; I preferred to drink alone. He was a fool - and a persistent one at that.

In fact, his persistence was what I relied upon in order to set my scheme into motion. His willingness to engage in conversation with anyone, but particularly me, would enable a few well-selected words to slide into his mind and take root, growing slowly until they produced a harvest for me to reap.

An opportunity presented itself sooner than I anticipated, but it did not catch me off guard. After a briefing with the other unit leaders, I stayed behind to train, the practice hall empty at this hour. For some time I had been working to complete an attack I adapted from one of Hijikata's techniques, and it was close to perfection. That afternoon my instincts were synchronized with my movements - every attempt hit its fatal mark.

"What are you doing, Saitou-san?" A voice interrupted my pondering.

"I will not dignify that with an answer." I shot a withering glare at Okita, standing in the doorway, demanding he spare me from further idiocy and meaningless questioning.

"I thought you would have gone to celebrate with your men after today's success."

"I dismissed them before the meeting."

"Ah. They left rather early, don't you think?"

"Why not start the festivities? Particularly when there is no one waiting for them at home." The men had been rather restless as of late, their drinking a little heavier, their words a little harsher. Soon they would need to be disciplined or restrained.

"You think that's what it is?"

"I don't think, Okita. I know." The boy's silence indicated he took my theory quite seriously, and I was satisfied. "Just as I know this is a practice hall - and why the hell would you be here if not to practice?"

"Of course." Okita brandished his wooden sword in my direction. "Actually, I was looking for a sparring partner."

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow, lifting my own weapon to examine it. "Unless you can handle the humiliation of being defeated, I suggest you look elsewhere."

"I think you are mistaken, Saitou-san." The boy walked into the practice hall and stood opposite me, assuming his attack position. I did not attempt to fight the smile that crept onto my lips, my eyes narrowing as I observed him carefully.

The first few attacks were simple lunges, easy to block. It was an attempt to force a stronger move out of me; a ruse for me to lay out my abilities so he could find an opening and surprise me with an unfamiliar attack. Did he really think I was that stupid?

"Do not waste my time." I said, blocking another basic swipe from the side. "Your warm-up is finished. Now do not hold back!" With half a smile, the boy stood in a stance I had not seen before. Oh well - it didn't matter. He had no chance.

Turning sideways, I positioned my weapon parallel to my body. My right hand lay at the very tip of the blade, my fingers outstretched. A moment of stillness passed as we both waited. And then, he moved.

The truly great thing about meeting an opponent in a lunge is the advantage my left hand gave me. If I kept myself to their left, a right-handed opponent could never attack me with their full power, as the angle was too difficult and my katana was in position to block every attempt. My practice sword blocked nearly all of Okita's attack, except for one hit to the shoulder and one to the leg. My offensive, however, solidly connected right below his chest. Both of us halted in the middle of our charge, the power of our collision destroying our individual momentum.

"Not bad," I conceded. "But not good either."

"Y-yes." The boy managed to sputter at last, coughing from the impact and bringing a frown to my face. The attack had not been that powerful since we were not using katanas. Nonetheless, for some reason I smelled blood. Releasing the pressure on his ribs, I stepped back to survey him.

"What… was that?" Okita's eyes were large, filled with surprise and reverence for my skill as he regained his breath.

"That is my Gatotsu." I answered smoothly. "And you were the first of many." Silence met my confident prediction of my attack's success, so I unhurriedly walked to where I had left my sandals. His attack had certainly affected me, but I would not show any weakness, not if I was to accomplish my goal. Easier than I expected, Okita was falling into the very place I had designated to him. Now, to seal his uncertainty!

"That is enough practice for today. I'm going to have some sake to celebrate my victory - but you may join me if you wish." I did not really have to ask - I knew he would have attempted without my prodding anyway.

  


  
Okita and I stood quietly flanking the doorway, the murmurs inside providing no entertainment. Ever since our practice match, the boy took my superiority seriously, even trying to calm me when he thought I was getting angry, for fear of what I might do in a limitless fury. His efforts amused me, as my tone often caused the young man to step in when it was unnecessary. But he saw it as his duty to keep my imaginary temper in check, and made it a habit to follow me.

Not that I was annoyed by his constant presence - I had no reason to be. If he chose to waste his time studying me, I would let him, although I would make damn sure he could never really tell what I was thinking. He was not exactly poor company either; I could name several other commanders who would have been breathing their last if they had trailed me as this boy did. Okita, while ignoring my insults, displayed his odd respect for me, which I never acknowledged as I merely practiced tolerance towards him until his usefulness wore off.

The conversation inside had taken on a more lighthearted note, as heavy laughter carried through the closed door. Neither Okita nor I flinched when there was a loud call for sake, and one man swiftly threw open the panel. Apparently, some genius thought diplomacy would be easier when they were all piss drunk. I could not agree more.

The door remained open and neither of us saw any point in bothering to close it. I, at least, was rather curious as to what they were discussing, but the subject had turned to more domestic matters. I paid no attention until an older man, who had left earlier, approached Okita, staring at him thoughtfully before wandering back into the room. The boy's eyes met mine questioningly, but I merely turned to face forward once again. He did the same.

"Takagi-san." The old man's gravelly voice was unmistakable as it carried over the other humming voices. "I know you did not wish to speak of this matter again tonight, but I must ask you - have you only considered political matches?"

"Well, yes…" My legs stiffened, my breath caught in my throat. That voice…? "But I cannot put her in such a position. Not during these difficult times."

"Perfectly understandable. I am surprised, however, that your scope has been so limited. If it is protection you wish for your daughter, should you not marry her to someone who can provide it?"

"I am afraid I do not understand…"

"The Shinsengumi holds many of the best warriors Kyoto has to offer. Those young me are highly skilled and many are eligible for marriage."

"Thank you for your suggestion, but I am not sure-"

"Well, you do not need to decide right now!" The older man laughed heartily. "Let us have some sake and you can think about it."

"Ah, thank you."

My attention was drawn away from the conversation as footsteps echoed down the corridor. The rhythmic slapping of sandals indicated it was only one set of feet - a messenger?

I turned to close the door; if it was bad news, I did not wish the politicians to overhear. The last thing we needed during a crisis was a mass of panicked men unable to defend themselves. As I faced the room, I skimmed the crowd quickly, searching for the body to the voice I had overheard speaking with the elder man. I saw the pair kneeling, not far from where I stood, and I slid the door shut with finality.

It was as I had thought. Takagi-san was Tokio's father. Interesting.

The boy that had been approaching Okita and I had stopped, panting to catch his breath. Judging by the expression on his face, there had been no bloodshed, but something was clearly afoot. No one spoke until the messenger raised his head.

"The Ishin Shishi are out tonight. One of our groups on the western side spotted them not too long ago. Hijikata wants all the politicians who must leave to be escorted by a group of four or more."

"Four?" I raised my eyebrow slightly. "That seems a little excessive."

"Those are the orders." The messenger shrugged. For a moment, I paused, Okita clearly waiting for my deliberation to end before he spoke.

"Well." I mused aloud. "If we escort five men, that's twenty of our men gone from protecting this compound, leaving a much greater number of politicians at risk. I doubt Hijikata realized that a scouting group was ordered by Kondou to investigate several occurrences on the southern end, leaving us understaffed. Four is too many."

"What would you suggest we do, then?" The first unit commander questioned, although he clearly agreed with my decision.

"You and I will escort two separate groups of them, based on where they need to go. We will each take two additional men, or possibly four each, depending on how many we need to escort. That cuts the manpower needed in half and we can be just as efficient. The politicians will simply need to walk a little farther, that's all."

"Ah, good idea." Okita nodded. "Alright then," he turned to the messenger. "Go called the commanders of the second and sixth units and have them meet us here to discuss preparations."

"Yes, sir."

As the young man started off to relay the message, I returned to my post, cueing Okita to do the same. Opportunities abounded tonight, and I was going to make use of every single one of them.   


  



	3. Observations

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

"Alright then." Okita's constant smile did not falter as he herded a total of six men out the doorway. Really, it was ridiculous what we had been reduced to - protecting these simpering fools had become almost a regular task. I hated it, but I did not complain, as my objections would fall on deaf ears.

"Saitou-san, I will take the eastern sector, you will take the western." I barely nodded, working to put a polite smile on my face. "Since there are four coming with me, I will take four men. We can spare two more for you."

"Good." I responded, waiting patiently for the moment to depart. Whenever we were forced to interact with other captains or the politicians, I always let Okita do the talking. His cheerful civility was much more efficient in persuading others to do what he asked, unlike the demanding and somewhat condescending tone I habitually used. I suspected it was also for this reason that he split the groups the way he had, leaving me with only a few men, knowing how much I hated these sorts of duties. Sometimes I didn't give him enough credit.

Okita had finished turning over matters to the second and sixth unit commanders who were to remain at the compound. Our men would be at their disposal should they need it, although I was relatively sure it wouldn't be necessary. If the Ishin were out, they were lying in wait for us. I did not mind - even if they tried an ambush, I would know they were there before they had a chance to strike.

I noted with interest that Takagi-san was to be in my small escort group. He seemed rather ill at ease, being around so many swords at once. But then again, all the politicians were like that to a degree. Whenever they were forced to turn their power and control over to someone else, they became fidgety. In a way, it was almost laughable to see their discomfort.

"Let's go." The polite smile did not move off my face as Okita led his group down the corridor to the front. My smaller group followed behind, and I allowed my thoughts to drift for a moment. Once we exited the building, I would need to be thinking of nothing but the enemy, so now was the time to rid myself of that strange uncertainty that had been weighing on me.

When I had dared to pause long enough to scrutinize my activities, I had realized with a growing sense of distrust that as much as I had plotted and planned, I did not like what I was doing. I had known there was only one way to achieve my goal; I would have to marry. My pride and the code I lived by would not allow me to do anything less, and from what I could tell, she would be a good wife. Her need for solitude that night had left a strong impression on me - she was not a woman starved for attention, nor was she timid. My interpretation of her behavior led me to conclude she was the kind of woman that would leave me in peace, while performing her domestic duties efficiently. In truth, I only wanted her for one reason; but after I had quelled my instincts temporarily and thought through the situation, I realized how advantageous the match would be. So why was something bothering me?

The cool night air provided a refreshing relief from the growing stuffiness of my own clouded thoughts. I pushed hesitations out of my mind as I drew in a deep breath, reverting to my favorite activity of hunting down my prey. The bastards would not be able to hide from me.

I led the party of four through the dark Kyoto streets, the two other men walking behind the officials. The scuffs of their feet against the dirt were offensively loud as I silently made my way through the empty city, irritation mounting. How could I hear the enemy when the four behind me were creating such a racket?

Nonetheless, we arrived at the first destination with no mishaps. Now all that remained was Takagi-san.

Oddly, the man insisted that since it was so late, he merely wanted to be left at an inn nearby. I did not press him for further information as I really did not care, but merely informed him that once we left he would be unguarded and was no longer our responsibility. A nod was my only response, so we began to move in the direction he specified. I attributed his reluctance to not wanting to arrive home drunk.

Halfway down the street, I paused, unsheathing my katana. I heard the tiny gasp come from Takagi-san's mouth and I fought to prevent my smile from turning into a frown. A tiny click in a dark alleyway to the left is what had caught my attention. The unmistakable sound of metal hinted there was someone lying patiently in wait, preparing for the moment to strike. Hah. Not if I beat them to it.

Silently, I motioned for the two men to check the darkness. I turned to Takagi-san, the smile twitching ever so slightly; it was hard to keep from grimacing when the man's eyes were glued to my sword and he looked rather pale. Too much sake, no doubt, leaving him in possession of only a few faculties.

"Please stay here, Takagi-san." I turned away from him, searching the street hungrily. "If you stay in one place, I will always know your location, and thus be able to protect you." Somehow, I didn't think he could move if he wanted to, once fear took root. But different men responded in different ways, and I always thought it best to provide a verbal warning. "Do not worry, Takagi-san." My voice was smooth and confident, my best attempt to put him at ease. "This is child's play."

A small shuffle on the rooftop behind me pricked my senses, and I heard the rush of air. So, they were going to come from above, was that it? Too simple, too slow, too easy!

With minimal effort I spun about to knock the flying projectile to the ground as Takagi ducked in terror, his hands grasping his balding head.

"Move up against that door." I instructed calmly. "Then they cannot get you from above." There was a grunt, and I sidestepped a swing from behind, the fear that had reflected from the mute politician's eyes providing more than enough warning of the attack. The scurrying behind me informed me that Takagi was taking my advice, so I set myself between him and the newest attacker, who was steadying himself for another bout.

My knees instinctively bent and I held my katana out at my side. Although the man's face was covered in the dark, I could tell by his breathing he was already pissed, and that brought a maniacal smile to my lips. I already had him in my clutches, but I hadn't even started.

"Go." The single word set the man off, and he charged with an unmasked fury. But he was too slow - he missed completely and my Gatotsu skewered his ribs, a fatal wound. I had a bit of trouble getting him back off my sword as his broken bones unfortunately impeded the process of discarding him. Initially, I had been aiming a bit lower so as to avoid the cage of bones entirely, but the bastard had to interfere. Not that it mattered. My katana returned to its unblemished state of cleanliness with a swift flick of the wrist.

I heard a shout from the two men I had sent into the alleyway, the stinging clangs of metal against metal echoing in the deserted streets. There was still the matter of whoever had been on the rooftop, and by now, I would estimate that he was-

A quick step backward kept the bastard from landing on my back as he had planned. To my surprise, he quickly regained his feet despite having missed his target. Well, it was a wasted effort. My katana lifted almost of its own accord, and briskly swung through the man's neck with no hesitation. When it hit his spine, the weapon recoiled and drew itself back out rapidly. He crumpled into a heap, choked coughs from the dying man drowned out by the footsteps of my two men as they returned, spatters of blood adorning their uniforms. Another flick, and then the katana was slid carefully into its sheath.

"The enemy has been dispatched, sir."

"Good." For a moment I paused, returning my polite smile to my lips before turning to Takagi, his eyes wide with a combination of fear and admiration. I would not have to remind him that I had effortlessly accomplished. "We are finished here." A jerked nod from the man indicated it was time to continue, so I went on with the official, my subordinates remaining to clean up the scene. The inn itself was merely paces away, and I stood at the door while Takagi hesitated.

"T-hank you." He said rather slowly, having a bit of trouble articulating. His mouth opened as if to speak again, but I broke the silence before he had a chance.

"This is what I have been trained to do." I objected quietly. "That is all." Without waiting for another word, I turned my back to return to my men. As I walked, I waited until I heard him open the door and shuffle inside before I let the smile slip off my lips.

Everything was happening rather rapidly - parts of my original plan were being rendered useless by the ever-changing situation that accompanied my job, but it was nothing I could not adapt to. Sooner or later, I had expected to Takagi's eyes to be opened to what the older man had been saying to him. Fortunately, I had been the one to display our power, and someone with apparent political weight had been the one to make a suggestion. Perhaps now he would not be so reluctant to marry her to someone on the outside of the government circle. I would have to wait, but so far, things were proceeding well.

Okita scrutinized me skeptically, the glazed look in his eyes verifying that the alcohol had begun to grab hold of him. Tonight, in his inebriated state, he was providing entertainment during my victory celebration, which consisted of us sitting quietly in a corner drinking. The sake tasted good, and I was ensuring I received my fill, as the boy across from me had already done. It struck me as odd that the boy had insisted we celebrate, and then he downed his drink without even appreciating it, intoxicating himself as quickly as he could. Perhaps he did not think I saw this, but little escapes me. His eyes were desperate, and now they were critical as they stared at me unabashedly.

"What." I finally asked. When drunk, he did not speak at random like usual, but instead waited for me to question him; occasionally I indulged him.

"How do you do it?" His eyes averted to his empty cup - I refused to let him have any more, as I did not want him getting sick. The proprietor of the establishment had enough troubles tonight as it was with several rather loud men near the front.

"I do many things, but I don't read minds." I finished what remained in mine. "You need to be more specific if you really want an answer."

"How do you ignore death?" My lips pursed, the only sign of my surprise as the rest of my face remained blank.

"You've had too much, Okita." I brushed away his question, deeming it a rather ridiculous inquiry.

"No! I want to know what your secret is!" He leaned forward, elbows on the table propping up his chin as he resumed his unfaltering gaze at my face. "How can you look away when death is staring you in the face every day?"

"You are making less sense than usual." A smirk graced my lips as I poured myself another drink.

"Why won't you answer me?" His voice became frenetic as his fists weakly pounded the table. "I'm just asking a damn question! Can't you stop being a fucking bastard long enough to tell me?"

The grin that I wore disappeared in the wake of his apparent anger; I was mildly surprised at his harshness, so unlike the boy that trailed me constantly. But I did not change my expression and remained silent.

"Be-because you are. Just a fucking bastard!" Okita's face was flushed, with a barely restrained rage and confusion as he stared down at his fists clenched tightly in front of him on the table.

"Think what you will." I slipped my hand into my uniform jacket, hunting for my cigarettes. It had been awhile since I indulged, and the situation just seemed to call for one. I carefully lit the match and cradled it in my hand until I let out the first puff of smoke. With a vindictive smile, I dropped the flickering match into the sake bottle, watching the thin line of gray curl towards the ceiling.

"Don't you ever doubt yourself?" His eyes met mine and I found myself unable to tear my gaze away. "How is it you always have the solutions?" A thud came from the table as his fist pounded against wood again, before he slumped into the cradle of his arms. His voice cracked; I could hear every quiver despite the muffling of his lips against the table. "Why can't I see everything so clearly?"

No words surfaced in my mind that seemed to be an appropriate response. I had nothing to say to him - rather, I recognized I was no good at this sort of thing. Emotional outbursts and internal angst were facets of life I tried to avoid entirely, and so I had no expertise in handling them effectively. They always complicated things more than necessary, and became a burden that clouded one's vision. Now, I was being confronted by a wave of inexplicable sadness and desperation that I could not find a way around.

"Okita." My voice was authoritatively quiet. "I think it is time to go."

"No. Not until I can live the same way!"

"Okita…" He ignored my warning tone, picking up his head and continuing rapidly in a hoarse whisper.

"I want to be an unfeeling bastard, just like you! I want to forget what it means to hurt, forget my weakness! I don't want to fucking waste away!"

"…You are not exactly what I would classify as weak." I drew my cigarette from my lips to tap the ash off the end. My eyes darted to the boy as he burst into laughter, although I found nothing humorous in our discussion, before breaking down into a series of choked coughs, his fingers clawing at his chest with each shudder. A hand instinctively went to cover his mouth, and his face turned deathly pale. But when his spasms ceased, he wiped his lip and shakily smiled at me.

"Do you see this blood?" He didn't have to ask; I had already smelled it the moment the fit began and I was unable to keep the scowl off my face. His ravings began to seem almost logical. "Every day it's a little more than before…" He pulled out a cloth and wiped his hand clean, the red stains viciously seeping into the white. All his anger seemed to have disappeared with the coughs, and now his voice was a dead calm, quiet and pensive.

"When you first came I thought… I thought you were an ass. You talked to no one, didn't even make an attempt to become one of us. But as I watched, I realized that you're just… different from everyone else. You aren't afraid of anything. Not even death."

"Is that what you think." I looked at my cigarette to avoid his gaze, watching the ash crumble off the end, my voice carrying nothing but indifference. Inside, I felt slightly discomfited and self-conscious at having been observed so accurately - this was the second time he had read me easily, and I prided myself on making things difficult. But if I was failing at this…

His general observations were valid. I feared nothing and I had complete confidence in my strengths and flaws, wasting none of my time on others and in return being left in solitude to watch the world move on without me. It sounded exceedingly depressing the way he said it, but that was not how I thought of it. Actually, I did not think of it at all, I simply lived the only way I knew how. Too much introspection led to doubt of one's capabilities, and that led to weakness, very dangerous when my very life depended on how much I trusted myself.

"Yea. That is what I think. As usual, you don't give a fuck." He stood suddenly, surprising himself with the abrupt change in elevation, trying to get his bearings in his confusion. Lurching forward, he made his way to the door and left without turning back.

I stubbed out my cigarette in my empty cup, as there was nowhere else to put it. Well, shit. I should have known better than to initially brush him off. How careless of me. His drive, his talent, the mental discipline he showed by never being rude or arrogant despite his obvious superiority - it all stemmed from his dark secret.

He was dying.

The mere thought was enough to jar even my stable emotional state. I could not pretend to know what it was like to walk through life knowing that with every breath, you were fading a little more. It is one matter to die by a sword, and quite another to go through sickness. No warrior, particularly one with such potential, should ever face such circumstances. But a cruel twist of fate had made it so, but nonetheless the kid was persevering. Hell, he was persistent. At least now, it was excusable - and even admirable.

I stood, retrieving my katana from where it lay by my side in the process. Sake would have no more taste for me tonight, I knew, so retiring would be best. Silently, I left the money at the table and walked out, trying to clear the unsettling confusion that had taken root.

Pity is something I try to avoid, as it conflicts with objectivity, competes with reason. I thought I had it under my control, stifled by my calculating animal instinct. Yet it wormed its way into the back of my mind, leading to an involuntary shake of my head. A sigh accompanied a leisurely glance upward into the night before my feet took me towards home.

Well, Okita, I thought darkly. So much for having rid myself of inner doubt. Little bastard…


	4. Adrenaline

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

He was kneeling over his sandal in one corner of the practice hall, cursing his inability to tie a knot strong enough when I approached him.

"Okita." His head spun to find me standing over him, my wooden sword in one hand, the expression on his face one of shock. I could not understand why - I had not even remotely attempted to keep my presence a secret. Then again, I never initiated conversation with him, so perhaps that was the reason for his surprise.

"Saitou-san! What can I do for you?" I paused, his attitude the same as it always was, polite and cheerful. Had he forgotten what transpired the night before?

"I think it is time for a rematch."

"Oh, are you sure you can handle it?" No. He definitely did not recall what he had said last night, which was probably for the better. In the back of my mind, questions as to whether or not drinking until his memory failed was detrimental given his condition ran by in rapid succession until I firmly put a stop to them. How foolish of me.

"Tsk!" was my only response as I made my way to the middle of the room to warm up with some basic technique. Moments later, I heard his socked feet padding across the wooden floor.

"Alright." My head turned to see him take up another stance I was unfamiliar with, waiting for me. "I'm ready."

With a rather mischievous grin, I took my position across from him. "Then move."

He eagerly did, and I matched the charge. To the left he struck first, my Gatotsu blocking off the other half of my body. But after the block he propelled himself sideways, clearing my stab and with a rapid flick of his wrist, there was the rough pointed end of the wooden sword pushing against the underside of my chin.

"I'm surprised, Saitou-san." He sounded disappointed as he let the tip of his weapon linger, digging into my skin. "The same attack never works twice on me."

My eyes narrowed involuntarily and my own practice sword knocked his away from its position with unnecessary force.

"If our first match has been genuine, there would not have been a second time." Unable to look at him, knowing my temper would snap, I began to head for the entrance. He had defeated me this time in a fair contest; coupled with his remarks from the night before, the events combined to inexplicably infuriate me. Yet again, I had underestimated what lay behind his façade - leading me to wonder what else I was overlooking in my own confidence. My movement was arrested when I heard his laugh; sincere and unburdened by the dark thoughts I knew were hidden behind it.

"Well you don't have to be such a sore loser, Saitou-san!" I could not bring myself to look at him, afraid he might see the hint of a smile that had tugged at my lips when he spoke those words. What was wrong with me? I lose one practice round due to my own stubbornness in using the exact same technique with no variation, and then I lose my composure over it? Unacceptable.

"Who said I lost? You may have won today, but we are not finished. Best of three."

"I'm going to hold you to that!" The boy called out as I slipped on my sandals, and a tiny grin could not be hidden. He was not stupid, really rather talented. And a relentless little bastard. As I left to walk home, my mind was thoroughly absorbed in developing a new technique that would settle our final match in my favor. Though I would not admit it, I felt a contentment settle in, quite different than that of slaughtering an opponent, at the thought of facing him again. In my repose, all doubts were brushed aside and I soon forgot them - but they did not disappear.

Weeks passed, perhaps only totaling to two months. The nights and days were hard to keep apart, as they were filled with stains of red, increased violence precipitated by the contrast of clear sake. Our killing sprees of Ishin Shishi were fearsome, our numbers slowly multiplying. Each set of hours was identical to the ones that preceded, only varying in target and location. All the while, Okita was by my side, smiling in the face of my curses, laughing at the most inappropriate times, and occasionally making his presence a nuisance. But I had grown used to it, discovering I no longer needed to consciously practice tolerance, even finding things amiss when he was not there.

Because I did not dwell on my change in opinion, I did not realize that my defensive shield had been chipped by his friendly persistence, the fact disguised by my increase in respect for the boy as a strong combatant. But it was thanks to him starting an unconscious chain reaction that I was caught so off-guard - he rolled the pebble that unknowingly enlarged into an avalanche.

Several occasions after escorting Takagi home that one evening, the Shinsengumi were ordered to play bodyguards at important meetings. Sometimes he would be there, and I could feel him looking at me, although my own gaze always remained straight ahead, ever watchful. If he chose, he could have spoken to me, but he did not bother. I did not press the issue either, as I did not trust myself to be conversational with some man I had nothing in common with - particularly a man whose daughter I craved. The vast majority of the time, I found myself to be better at making enemies than friends, so I kept my distance. But whenever I noted his presence, my thoughts involuntarily jumped to her, recalling every moment I had been watching from the shadows.

Walking through the streets in civilian clothes, sometimes I would see her with a friend or shopping with an older woman I assumed to be her mother. Never did I attempt to approach her and she never saw me observing. Feasting my eyes upon her during the polite laughs, the verbal sparring with her mother, and the suggestive teasing of friends, my desire was curbed temporarily, feeding my addiction for the woman until I thought impatience would get the best of me. But, exercising the utmost care in concealing my growing obsession, I settled with glances I was able to steal in daylight, and silence from her father during the late-night meetings.

Yes, I could wait a little longer.

Usually, I scorn the idea of attributing success to luck, but nothing else could have provided me with the opportunity to eavesdrop on such an important conversation. I had been summoned to see Kondou and Hijikata about a purge - apparently one of our members had thought they were above the rules again. Seppuku would be in order, and I was called to be informed of the time and individual. When I arrived, however, a heated discussion was carrying through the door, and I decided against interrupting.

"It's ridiculous! How could they expect us to accept such an offer?"

"The idea is not foolish - and I think we should take it. After all, our job is to keep the politicians happy above all else."

"At the price of our efficiency? Absolutely not, Kondou, have you lost your mind?" "If we want to keep our position, it is best to do as they say."

"I never thought you would compromise your beliefs like that!"

"Alright, look. If there is a way around it, I will try to take it. But it's not as significant an issue as you're making it out to be…"

"We're having enough troubles as it is - I don't want that to be stirred in as well."

A moment of quiet spread through the air before a third voice interjected.

"Excuse me, Hijikata-san, but I beg to differ."

"What is it, Okita?"

"Well, I think what the officials are proposing is a good idea. Marrying off the officers will keep them in check - as you know, most of them have been getting out of hand, as of late, and married life tends to calm many of the wilder ones."

"Calm them to a point of uselessness, Okita, which is what I have been saying all along."

"But secondly," Okita's voice continued with the same tone, unperturbed. "By having someone to support, they will be more insistent upon performing their duties well."

I could not keep myself from smiling slightly. What I had told him so long ago had stayed in his mind, and now it was serving me well. The silence that then commanded control over the conversation was encouraging, until at last Hijikata sighed.

"Okita has a valid point, and I have to agree with him. So it is for that reason I will not argue further."

"Very well. I shall inform the politicians. I suppose we'll have them throw us a social event of sorts and we'll make an announcement for any interested."

Once the decision had been made, I had no reason to wait. So I slid open the door and walked in.

"Ah, Saitou-san!" Okita smiled warmly at me, the other two keeping their faces neutral yet relieved that I had been prompt.

"You called me?" Kondou nodded as Hijikata pulled out a paper, his expression grim.

"Yes…"

"Saitou-san?" Okita's voice was incredulous, his tone bordering on laughter as he took in my dark blue kimono. My reply was a raised eyebrow and a quiet retort.

"Something the matter, Okita-kun?"

"Well, I- you said you didn't plan to attend!"

"Plans area always subject to change; you should know that." Ending the conversation, I walked inside, leaving the young man to fulfill his job of entrance guard. Surveying the crowd, I leisurely made my way to the corner, finding a bottle of sake along the way. Now, to wait.

As I predicted, only a few moments passed before a hand clapped my on the shoulder in a far too friendly fashion.

"At last, a familiar face! You wouldn't mind if I had a drink with you?" I politely shook my head, and smiled as sincerely as I could at Takagi while the older man sat himself down.

"Saitou Hajime, isn't it?" He confirmed as he poured himself a drink.

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, no need to be so formal! But I'm afraid we have not had an actual introduction. I am Takagi Kojuurou. I never did get a chance to thank you-"

"And there is no need to, Takagi-san. I merely do what I can to help Japan in these troubled times."

"Of course, of course, forgive me. I don't mean to be rude, but I must say I'm surprised to see you here. Aren't you the leader of the third unit?"

"I am." My hand reached for the sake bottle, but Takagi waved it away and poured it for me.

"Now, I would have thought someone of your high rank would already be married. But here you are, and sitting in a corner not less! You do realize that nearly all the men here would be willing to marry their daughters to you."

"Nearly all?" I took a sip. "You offend me, Takagi-san." The man burst out laughing before picking up his own drink. "Not only that, but I was counting on you to come here, and, good man that you are, you obliged. Honestly, Takagi-san, do you really want me to mingle and create competition for you?" I gave him a rather dark smile, which caused him to laugh again as he returned his sake to the table.

"Of course, you are right. Not much gets past you!" His expression took on a more serious look. "Well, in truth, I would not have spoken with you tonight if I did not think you were a possible candidate. My daughter, Takagi Tokio, is getting rather old, I must confess, but still within the acceptable age for marriage. This has only enhanced her qualifications, as she has gained a womanly grace only possible through her maturation, and she performs all her household duties to perfection. A strong woman, is the best way to describe her, while maintaining her feminine beauty and charms."

"I have seen your daughter." I informed him, hoping he would cease extolling her virtues. "And I can tell you that your words do not do your lovely daughter justice."

The old man broke into an embarrassed grin.

"You are too kind, Saitou-san. I must say I am relieved you have taken interest in my daughter. You're a good man, and you can protect my daughter well. Now, on the subject of her dowry -"

"You do not need to sell your daughter to me." I objected. "Do not put yourself out-"

"Of course not." He agreed with a solemn nod. Nonetheless, his hands pulled a bit of paper out of his kimono and he wrote down a sum. I only briefly glanced it over before nodding my approval. At this, his mouth broke into a wide grin.

"Shall we consider it a match then?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful! Stop by so we may discuss the finer points of the necessary preparations and arrangements that must be taken care of." Scribbling his address on the same slip of paper, he stood. "It was a pleasure speaking with you."

"Likewise."

I finished the sake off as I watched him make his way to the door. A nice enough fellow, I suppose - although he talked far too much for my taste. The hunt was over, and I was victorious. Of course. No other options had even entered my mind.

The Shinsengumi were very active now, what with rumors flitting about several important rebel leaders joining forces. It was midway through the afternoon on a rather ordinary day when one of my subordinates ran to inform me that a recently captured patriot had let out important information. Okita had been sitting with me outside, as we waited to use the practice hall for our final match, but we decided to postpone the event to save our strength; tonight, Hijikata believed, would determine our fate. In the midst of the Gion Festival, our moment had come - not that I cared we were going to miss some of the festivities.

The assignments were handed down in a meeting before our departure. Okita and Toudou, another leader, were to take the inside of the building while the rest of us remained outside, trapping the bastards with nowhere to run. Our large ranks would make the task would simple, but just as dangerous. We had hopes to find the famed Hitokiri there as well, but I did not really expect it.

Even without the killer, blood still flowed freely through the street in front of the Ikedaya Inn. We all received our fill of death that night, but there was one casualty I did not anticipate.

Standing outside under the cover of night, I watched the light go out in the upstairs room. It had begun. Shouts filtered through the stillness of the night, cries and shrieks as men crumpled to the ground, wood cracking under the pressure of swords and heavy bodies thrown back in defeat. At last a wall splintered and we readied ourselves, the first outbreak into the dark whetting our appetite for blood. But the noise had come from Okita, pursuing a man onto the rooftops. His silhouette was all we could see, as he impaled his inferior opponent. Another crash on the first floor diverted everyone's attention, but I saw Okita pause to cough before eagerly returning to the fray. Then the blur began.

The dark colors of brown, blue, gray, and green all disappeared into red as my katana found its own rhythm and drove itself into every enemy I was faced with, disregarding all reason. My movements flowed from one target to the next in a rapid succession of swipes and jabs, my feet unconsciously carrying me where I need to go. Downing my last opponent, I saw Okita walk out from the gate, carrying a man twice his size over his shoulder. It looked to be one of his subordinate leaders, but I did not get a good look as I saw two men following him, swords drawn.

"Okita…" I muttered involuntarily, the verbal command spurring my legs into motion without effort. In a flurry of force, I felled the two, standing protectively over the young man and the unconscious body next to him.

"Have you found him?"

"No, I don't know where he is! The Hitokiri isn't either."

"I see…" Cries came from an alley nearby. "Shit. Did they break through?" Okita shook his head violently.

"No… it must be from the outside!"

"We'll wait for reinforcements then." A scream from the alley rang out above the other clangs of metal coming from within the building in front of me.

"We can't wait!" Okita clenched his katana.

"You are in no condition to fight, Okita-kun." I said as emotionlessly as I could. "You're pale and your breathing is erratic, not to mention you cannot stand and that is why you remain kneeling there. Am I correct?" A mumbled curse was all I could decipher, as I flicked my katana clean and listened to the blood hit the dirt. My unit soon found me, and when I felt I had gathered enough we made our way to the alley by a bridge. The fallen uniforms indicated the fate of the unfortunate souls who had been stationed at this corner of the perimeter, and the red that filled tiny ruts and crevices in the road needed no explanation. Someone had been by, and with considerable skill, for an entire unit lay crushed. Kneeling beside one body, I felt his neck - no pulse, the blood trickling down his mouth still sticky and bright. My eyes searched the darkness as I stood again, listening to a report on the status of the discovered patriots, my mind not really on what was being said.

"…I see." I responded absently. But then, I did see.

"What's wrong?" A flash of white, followed by a dark red.

"I smell white plums."

"It's summer."

"Maybe it is blossoming out of season." But I could not keep a frown from caressing my face, unable to understand why there was such a fragrance amidst the carnage.


	5. Disappear

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Nothing could have been as simple as following the scent, and I wanted to. I should have.

"Check the inside and clean up." I commanded the three other men who had collected about me. "I'll take care of this."

They did as I ordered without question, scattering about the compound to search the inn and grounds. One step in the direction of my prey was as far as I advanced, however, when Okita grabbed my sleeve, his arm covering his mouth as he began to cough. Wrenching coughs full of bloody mucus, nauseating to see. He slumped to the ground as his strength ebbed, and his hand went to his throat as his mouth moved silently.

What the hell?

I stood perplexed for a moment before it dawned on me.

He was choking.

My reflexes took over and my hand flattened, as I bent over and firmly smacked his back with my palm. The gasp of air that slipped out was a relief to hear, as Okita began to cough again, quieter this time. Thoughts of trailing the white plum disappeared, as I stood over the young man with my arms crossed, ensuring my expression revealed my disapproval and disappointment.

"You're an idiot."

"What does it matter how much I stress myself, Saitou-san? Either way I'll die, right?" He managed a smile on his white face, despite his obvious discomfort and rather depressing words.

"Ahou." I pulled him up rather fiercely, before I reigned in my outburst. This did not affect me directly; there was nothing to be upset about. So why was I so angry? None of this mattered to me…

"You are going to be examined." I said, authoritatively as I could.

"Saitou-san, that really isn't necessary." He choked back a cough, swallowing deliberately.

"No arguing. You will lose." My hand fisted about the fabric on the back of the neck on his uniform as I spun him forward, pushing him in the appropriate direction. "Walk." He gave me a mild smile over his shoulder, not trusting himself to laugh, before he began to move down the street, heeding my word.

Why did this matter to me? Confusion was so foreign to me, only serving to increase my frustration. At the moment, the why was unimportant. The fact that his condition mattered was all I needed to know.

Cleaning up the inn was left to the lowly soldiers, as the sub-commanders searched the bodies for any Shinsengumi who had only been injured, bringing them to the nearest medical assistance available. The others of my rank were merely required to supervise, as no captives would be taken tonight. Somewhere in the vicinity, Kondou and Hijikata were no doubt barking orders, so I would not go looking for them or they would have something to occupy me with. I settled with leaning against a wall, trying to clear my head of the endless thoughts that circled darkly through my mind.

There was no sign of him the next day, nor the one that followed. An odd restlessness hounded me, as I reverted to a solitude I had forgotten existed, the long hours silent and oppressive. I practiced, I drank, I ate soba noodles at the same establishment I always visited, and I smoked the same cigarettes. But there was no one to watch, no one to listen to - which made me increasingly agitated. In an effort to forget the blank hours that passed by, I visited Takagi to secure the details of my impending marriage. But, in my ignorance of domestic things such as weddings, I did not realize that it would take a great deal of time to settle, and so I would have to wait until winter passed. Like all other animals, I would join with my mate in the spring.

The wait was almost over, but the void that became my existence seemed to magnify the needed interval of patience. There was no way to escape the monotony of every day but to unintentionally think, causing introspection I abhorred beyond description. Each time I pondered my new situation, my reflections led me to the same conclusion. Somehow, over these days, I had acquired a weakness - the little moron of a captain, Okita Souji. His repeated attempts to befriend me had been successful, despite my denial, and to my chagrin, I finally acknowledged that his absence had an impact on me.

But the small admission did not prevent my blood from going cold a week later when Hijikata called a meeting before some insignificant Ishin Shishi goose chase. There was no first unit leader. The twelve men were divided under two other leaders, and there was not even a hint of an allusion to Okita's whereabouts or situation. Vanished, as if he never existed. The rest of what was said during the briefing escaped me, but none of the instructions pertained to me anyway, so my lack of concentration was inconsequential.

Instead, my mind traced the mental path to the doctor's ward, and soon my feet followed. The young man who was available to answer my inquires nodded his head - there had been someone meeting my description, perhaps I should check the room to my left?

I felt awkward in the bleak quiet of the building, sliding open the door to look for the convalescent. Places full of disease and decay, sick rooms provide a constant reminder of the limits of the body and the vast extent of human weakness in a variety of forms. The sterile cleanliness surrounding the area also disturbed me, as it removed everything remotely human in its deathly perfection, fusing all the patients into a conglomerate of dwindling energy. Never before did I have a reason to enter one of these facilities - and I planned on never returning. Too much drawn out suffering weighed upon me, as I felt the eyes of hopeless invalids watch me survey the room. But I closed the door after only a moment, not seeing his face anywhere.

The exit beckoned me silently, and I left, a sense of failure haunting me at being unable to locate him in my brief and oddly humiliating search. The fact that I even looked for him, wasted time to search him out when he had no immediate importance to what I was doing infuriated me. Why did I care? Attachment to him meant I would have a weakness, and I was too careful to allow that to happen! But what other explanation could there be for this confusion? Oh, what the hell. The only way around it was to stop thinking about it. But, against my wishes, my own inability to understand the situation permeated every thought, and only distracted me from whatever task was at hand. During our operation that night, I even made a mistake; while nothing critical, I was jarred by the impact this one young man had on my concentration. I never liked camaraderie - it led to petty quarrels and exhausted energy that could be best expended elsewhere. Yet here I was, caught in its web and not even conscious of it until it was too late.

After the Ikedaya affair, patrolling the streets became our most pressing duty. The Ishin Shishi had been quelled for the time being, and we could only wait as the scattered forces no doubt reassembled themselves. We acted as separate units, each covering a sector of the city. Our spies were being picked out of the remaining Ishin Shishi ranks, unless they fled first, and so intelligence was nearly impossible to come by. Wounded animals, when given the opportunity to recover, merely strike back with twice the intensity of the first attempt. This time, we could not afford to lose.

While we waited, the crisp fall passed by before the long winter months set in, their numbing cold and increasing darkness gave the illusion that the season was endless. To add to the deception, my growing impatience for Tokio made chilling months even longer; stretching into a state of immobility as the hours refused to tick by. But a curious event late into the winter managed to pry my attention from the imminent delay of my marriage to something far more entertaining.

During one of the weeks in autumn, I had, purely by accident, run into Okita. Dressed in full Shinsengumi attire, he smiled when he saw me, although it did not take much observation to realize he looked weary.

"Okita-kun." I nodded my head, unable to do anything else. Relief was the only emotion I felt which I understood - all others were pushed aside.

"Saitou-san." Cheery, as usual, but exhausted too. I looked at him critically, trying to determine what to do next, as he simply continued his tight-lipped grin.

"Let's have sake tonight. I find it does not taste as good when one drinks alone." There was so much I would have liked to ask him - where he had been, what had happened. And, I realized, there was also a great deal I wanted to tell him about what he had missed by leaving my side.

"Alright." The boy answered with a conciliatory nod, as he paused. "It has been far too long."

"Mm." I agreed. "But we shall talk later." My unit was on patrol, and I was supposed to be as well; social calls would have to wait. Okita understood, and without another word, we parted ways.

Later that evening, I found myself inexplicably content. Everything seemed back to how it had always been, with Okita laughing quietly across from me in the face of my good-natured insults. The smile I wore belied the words I spoke, and it was fairly obvious that I felt comfortably at ease, my previous confusion and frustration washed away by a little sake.

"Ah, it's been too long since I tasted this." Okita looked at his cup wistfully, as if recalling every night he had gone without it. "I almost forgot what it was like."

"Where have you been?" Asking questions that were not straight to the point was a waste of time I did not indulge in. He did not mind my avoidance of small talk, merely glancing briefly at me before returning his gaze to his drink.

"Well… after I made it to the doctor's place, I apparently collapsed. I don't remember much of what happened, but when I woke again…" Pausing for a moment, he took a sip. "It was several days later. I was far too weak to get up, and the doctor insisted I stay to recuperate, as it had been serious this time. After I ate something though, I regained my strength and decided it was time to move on. Ishin Shishi might find me, for all I knew, and it was too risky to stay in one place like that."

"You're an idiot." I shook my head, realizing I had been only a few days too late to find him. I would have saved myself quite a bit of unnecessary worry, but my satisfaction in knowing everything was alright made my concerns seems negligible. "The Ishin Shishi had no strength after we obliterated their forces that night. They are hiding now, not hunting."

"I also found the place to be exceedingly depressing." Okita finished. I could not dispute this fact, so I said nothing. He seemed extremely somber, which I suppose was due to the fact that his sickness was getting the best of him. Only a matter of time…

"But," he smiled again as he poured himself a bit more sake. "I stayed at my place for a bit, bringing myself back to my full strength so I could return to the Shinsengumi. Of course, Kondou heard about my condition and insisted that I no longer participate in any combat that could… endanger me." At this I could not help but snort in laughter.

"Of course. Because combat itself is not dangerous in the least. Idiots." I muttered, shaking my head. Okita laughed quietly. I noticed he was being so careful not to aggravate his condition, like… like he was a frail old man. It made me angry, to see him weak like this… someone who could rival me in battle reduced to watching every move he made. Sickening.

"Well, at least I'm still able to participate in all the fun!" He smiled. "I'm still the leader of the first unit, and I'm patrolling the streets just like the rest of you."

"You didn't have to hurry back for that. It isn't exactly entertaining work."

"No, but it feels good to be useful." He reached out for the bottle of sake but I waved his hand away, pouring it for him instead. It was the only way that I could think of to relay my respect to him. For what he had been, and still was, in my eyes.

We drank the rest in a customary silence.


	6. Beginning

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

When winter set it, signs of the Ishin Shishi began to surface once again. Rumors were all we had to go on, until the movement began to gather speed once again. And rumors were everywhere.

There was no sign of the movement until one night of patrolling, dry and frigid. I had been along the border of my sector that evening, the rest of my group deployed close enough to give a signal for help, but spread enough to cover a significant portion of our area. I heard sudden cries not far from where I was, and I could faintly smell smoke, drifting in the cold air.

So it had began anew.

My feet carried me towards the cries, even though it was not in my section. Blood was intertwined with the scent of ash in the air, overwhelming my senses until I had to find the source.

A group of Shinsengumi soldiers stood in the road, unmoving, eyes fixed on something further ahead. They moved when they realized who I was, and I made my way to the front to watch the unfolding battle.

A flash of white, and the dark red that followed.

The white plum scent amidst all the carnage.

The cross-shaped scar. Red hair.

Hitokiri Battousai.

It was him.

And there was Okita, katana flying haphazardly in a desperate attempt to pin his prey. The two charged at each other forcefully, although I saw that neither hit their target. Okita began to cough, the battle too much for his weakening body to handle. It was already over.

"Okita, stand back!" I did not realize until after I spoke how desperate I sounded. The boy froze, my voice clearly unexpected and, perhaps, unwelcome. I knew he wanted to fight the Hitokiri - he had told me so many times that he hoped he would eventually find the legendary assassin. Now he had, and the fight would not even be a true test of skill.

"Saitou-san?" His voice begging me not to interfere, quietly reprimanding me for trying to protect him. Too late. I will not let you do this, Okita.

I moved forward quietly, aware that his eyes were on me in disbelief.

"I am very sensitive to the smell of blood, boy." Yes, I could smell that hideous metallic scent that emanated from both my colleague and his opponent. "You cannot defeat him in your current condition."

With as much control and deliberation as I could muster, I walked up to Battousai, and flipped my katana, taking my Gatotsu stance. I knew Okita would be angry, but I also knew he was the kind of man to forgive such a discourtesy as to interfere in another's fight. I only paused a moment to clear my thoughts before I smiled.

"Let's go."

He did not move - so I did.

I flew forward with my katana outstretched, ready to pierce his ribs and claim his blood as mine, to avenge all those he killed on the night of the Ikeyada affair, and to punish him for the death he could have caused tonight if I had not intervened.

He dodged.

Our katanas glittered and flashed as I continued the offensive, slashing and darting forward as metal constantly clashed with metal. Our swords danced dangerously close to our bodies, the blades merely inches from fatal wounds each time. He was fast… but so was I. Every counterattack he attempted was blocked, and every lunge I initiated was deflected. Back and forth, my rage carefully contained to keep me from making a foolish mistake, but furthering my drive to succeed. But each time he passed by, I could faintly smell the white plum, drenched in the overpowering stench of slaughter.

At last, we charged directly at one another, and I put all my strength into my downward cross, but… he had managed to deflect the attack with his own. Neither of us had made contact.

And above the ringing swords, I heard the choked cough of Okita, before my eyes caught him starting to fall. The other members of his unit tore their eyes away from the fight to tend to him, and I did not turn around for a moment, my concentration jarred by my worry over the boy. When I turned to resume my battle with Battousai, the man was gone. I realized later he had merely been stalling for time to allow his compatriots to escape. Hmph. For a famed Hitokiri, I was just as strong as he. And next time we met, I vowed I would surpass him.

After that night, Okita disappeared again, whether it was due to medical reasons or an intentional tactic to avoid me out of anger I did not know. It seemed fairly obvious to me that he would be upset after my fight with Battousai - but he would eventually understand that it was absolutely necessary.

So I was caught by surprise when I heard a knock on the door of my new dwelling that I purchased due to my upcoming wedding. Before I had been living somewhat cheaper in an apartment farther in the center of the city, and I thought it strange that someone would know my new address. I suspiciously slid open the door to see Okita standing there in civilian clothes - odd, since I was preparing to go to a Shinsengumi meeting.

"Saitou-san." He said respectfully, nodding his head.

"Okita." I thought it best to wait for him to speak, as I did not really know the appropriate words to say myself.

"I have something you might be interested in. After the meeting, can you stay for a moment at headquarters?"

"As long as I have not been stationed, I see no reason why not." Despite the fact that I was watching him warily, he smiled and turned to depart, leaving me utterly confused. Why wasn't he in uniform? And why the hell did he keep disappearing, with no one saying a word as to his whereabouts? Questions, questions. I was so used to always having the answers that I forgot what it was like to be uncertain. I forgot what it was like to be worried.

He wasn't at the meeting, which really didn't surprise me. The first unit was once again to be split among the rest of us, slightly increasing our own units, but not enough to throw us off our regular rhythm. Tomorrow night would be another hunt, perhaps even a success, depending on how efficient our new intelligence had been in providing the information. Unless the Hitokiri arrived, I personally could not foresee any problems in our investigation. Only one unit was being sent, with two more allotted for back up, the rest attending their regular duties. With that settled the briefing broke apart, and all departed for their respective homes, except for me. I stood by the entrance and did not even raise an eyebrow as Okita lifted a jug in the air.

"Here it is!" At this, I could not help but reveal a small smile.

"Sake?" I moved to allow him to walk in first.

"Of course! But this is not just any sake. There is a famous potter, I think his name is Kakunoshin Niitsu*, and apparently this sake arrived for sale along with some of his wares. Highly recommended from the owner of the shop."

"You were buying pottery?" The look I fastened on him indicated my amusement - Okita did not strike me as one well versed in what constituted good pottery, and I could not see such a subject interesting him for very long.

"Just looking." He smiled as he pulled out two cups. "I did not have much else to do while I recuperated, so I went browsing in the marketplace."

"I see. So - why were you absent from the meeting?"

"Ah." Okita seemed reluctant to answer, although not very surprised that I had asked. "Well, Kondou heard of my second relapse, and… he… he refused to let me assume my position as first unit leader. I'm a messenger, now."

My eyes darted to look at his face, but he did not meet my gaze. Instead, he concentrated on pouring out a generous amount of sake for both himself and for me, trying very hard, I suspected, to keep from getting emotional.

What the hell… I knew the logic behind what Kondou was doing - it would not help the Shinsengumi to have a commander who was not in possession of all his capabilities, but… at the same time it was grossly unfair.

"…I'm sorry." I finally managed to say. I had taken away his last battle as a Shinsengumi leader… perhaps it would have been merciful to let him die by Battousai's sword instead of leaving him to face the shame of being demoted. But no, I could not have let him die that night. I could not have watched; my self-control would have broken…

"Why don't we talk of something a little more cheerful?" Okita suggested after a moment of silence, as he raised his drink to his lips. "Something more worthy of this excellent sake!"

If I wasn't so absorbed in my own dark thoughts, I might have made an effort of small talk and commented on the quality of the drink as well. But the boy spared me the effort, a mischievous glint in his eye bringing back some of his characteristic optimism.

"What are these rumors I hear about you getting married?"

"People don't have better things to talk about?" I muttered, draining the rest of my cup and eagerly moving to refill it.

"So they are true!" A tiny laugh escaped his lips at this new revelation, apparently also enjoying my obvious refusal to discuss the topic.

"Why does it surprise you?"

"I didn't think in such times a man like you would be concerned with domestic matters."

"Hmph. Think before you speak, Okita-kun." That evicted another laugh, to my discomfort.

"Of course. So who is it?" The glare I gave in response should have quieted him, but it did not. To be honest, I did not have the strength to prevent him from pursuing the subject; he would never be in my position - he was declining too fast and he knew it. A marriage or family was out of the question for him, and I found myself full of pity, something occurring more frequently every time I spoke with him.

"Eh… the marriage was arranged."

"That was a pitiful way to evade the question!" Okita snorted, bringing about a solitary cough he stopped with a quick sip. "I've seen you lose your concentration and stare off - who is she?"

"I never lose my concentration." I corrected him. "My mind is always on the task at hand." A confident smile was flashed in his direction too, because as far as I was willing to admit, this was true. He was trying to trick me into acknowledging something that did not exist - while she may have preoccupied my thoughts frequently, whenever close attention was required, all else was pushed aside.

"But you are right, Okita-kun, I do know who she is. Her name is Tokio. Takagi Tokio."

"Not the daughter of Takagi the Aizu official!"

"Yes. He is her father." I reached for the sake jug, painfully aware of the silence that interrupted our conversation.

"Takagi Tokio…" With a shake of his head, Okita sighed. "I will never understand it."

"Understand what?"

"How you can end up with such a beautiful woman when your marriage was arranged. Surely she should have already had a match. We all thought the rumor had to be false."

We? So, gossip was drifting about. I was relatively indifferent to other opinions of my future wife - really, they did not matter, as I was the only one who would marry her. But while my acquisition of her had never been doubted, I did not realize that there was a possibility for competition. This sudden insight caused me to attach a bit of value to my prize - a concept I had not yet applied to the woman.

My evident triumph before the contention began and the wonderfully delicious sake going down my throat resulted in a devious smile.

"You have a great deal to learn, Okita. There are many ways to make people do what you wish. The truth is they can all be wound and set like a watch, to whatever time you want. And I happen to know exactly what it is I want."

Spring had taken its time to come, but finally it was here. Days of the month will not tell one when the season has arrived, but instead the smell of the air determines when winter has finally disappeared. The morning carries the aroma of wet earth freshly furrowed on a farmer's field. Once the sun has passed its peak in the sky, the air's scent turns to one of warmth, as the glowing yellow orb grows stronger, and all living things translate the change into a breath of exhilaration. When the darkness resumes, there is a fragrance of thawing ice or snow permeating the primarily scentless darkness, slowly releasing its hold on the land. Only when this transition is underway has the season really begun.

This year, the season signaled the end of my patience. As quickly as the chill of winter had subsided, I found myself thrown into the midst of foreign territory - wedding preparations. Actually, Takagi and his family were taking care of the majority of the arrangements. I had no family who might wish to get involved, and for the most part, I found myself indifferent to how it was orchestrated. The fact that engagement gifts had not been exchanged did not bother me - nor did the lack of a matchmaker. I was going to marry the woman I wanted, and in return for the peculiar circumstances, receive a considerable amount of money.

The ceremony itself was very solemn. I did not steal looks at her, despite my constant craving to see the details of her face as she stood beside me. What I felt to be an almost ridiculous smile graced my lips unfalteringly as I performed every necessary nuance of the ritual. The wedding and departure were reduced to faint recollections of polite nods and quiet laughs. The promised money from Takagi found its way into my hand at some point amidst the calm chaos I found myself faced with. Relief set in when at last her family left us in peace - but then, the unbreakable silence began.

Without a word, I led her through the house I had bought which would now be ours. The sparse furnishings were all I had, each room relatively bare despite the fact that the house was not large. Her own refusal to speak was satisfactory, as it proved she did not wish to do anything but oblige me and be respectful of my silence.

At last, we stood before the bedroom, and I entered, standing to the side to allow her to walk in after me. As she passed me, I watched her face, seeing her apprehension, but noting the evenness with which she walked. My eyes traced every curve of her figure, but rapidly turned to an inanimate object when her body twisted slightly to look at me. The shift in my gaze eventually rested on the futon that lay unfolded before us, but my mind was still occupied with her. After waiting so long, she was mine. Precisely what I wanted…

She must have noticed my intent stare at the futon, for she turned and examined it, to see if something was wrong. Once she had ceased her discomfiting scrutiny of me, I was able to break the stillness.

"Do you know what I am?" Perhaps it seemed a ridiculous question to ask, but she needed to know. My existence hinged upon what I did, and the sooner she accepted that fact, the less trouble we would have.

"You have married a killer, Tokio. Or so they will say." Women flourished upon rumors - I thought it best to exterminate any possibility of her thoughts being swayed by older women with no better way to occupy the time than talk. Admittedly, I had oversimplified the matter a bit, but I doubted she would understand my reasons, and I suspected she would not care to hear them.

Her slender form did not move as I spoke, nor in the silence that followed, and I took this as a favorable sign. There was no questioning, no gasp of horror, no cry of fear. With her response, I had no reason to hold back.

My hand reached for her shoulder as I knelt behind her, barely touching her skin to see how she would respond. I heard her breath quicken, but the contact completely obliterated any attempts to read her, my own sensations overwhelming me. Without hesitation, my hands slid to her obi, fumbling to loosen it, as I was inexperienced with women's clothing. Why the hell did women think it was necessary to tie these so tight? The only purpose the immovable knot served now was to interfere with my efforts to release the kimono as quickly as possible. I did not allow myself another thought as the obi finally complied with my coaxing, and the fabric slid away; her kimono loosened to show a considerable amount of soft skin and I allowed myself to revert to primal lust. I felt my burning desire fueled by brushing against her bare flesh, so much so that I almost lost control of it. My forehead leaned the back of her neck, as I used the moment to regain command over my urge to taste her; I felt drunk from her very scent…

But she whimpered.

The back of my neck crawled at the sound and I drew back instantly. Only now did I realize that she was shaking, and perhaps had been the entire time. What the hell. What the fucking hell. Why didn't I see that?

Easily answered: I had lost control of those instincts I valued so much, and now, here was my wife, afraid to be touched. Simply admitting I had lapsed was enough to infuriate me.

I shouldn't have told her. Was that why she was frightened of me? Because I was 'dangerous'?

Damn it, I need a cigarette.

I had taken to my feet after her reaction, and I now searched haphazardly for my matches. Only when I had put the wrapped tobacco in my mouth and struck the match did my thoughts begin to calm. This was nothing. Fear was conquerable, and I had been patient for so long, what was another small stretch of time? She was my wife, that fact would not change, so she would learn to accept it. Until then, I would not dirty my hands by forcing her to do anything she did not want. Patience could wear down even the most stubborn of foes.

No sooner had I resolved my inner conflict when she began to cough, scrambling to hold her obi against her face. A quick spin of her head landed her eyes upon me, and I averted mine - but not before seeing a wild look of panic at her obvious confusion. My gaze rested upon my cigarette, the smoke curling and dissipating into the air nonchalantly, and after a moment, I ventured another glance at my wife. In a rather ungraceful stumble, she made her way to the window opposite the door, searching for air to quell the coughs that welled up inside.

It was fairly obvious to me that my cigarette smoking was the culprit causing her discomfort. Not a moment's hesitation was required to decide to finish my tobacco elsewhere to cease her loud, wracking coughs and enable me to enjoy the damn thing. Without a word I made my way to the front entrance, standing beneath the overhang, calmly appraising the glowing end of my cigarette. However, once it had soothed my anger, I did not care to continue, so I flicked the remaining portion into the darkness, watching the red gleam slowly fade into black.

Only as I began to walk inside did I realize the only futons I had would be stored in the bedroom my wife was currently occupying. I proceeded down the corridor silently, the only way I knew how to move as a member of the Shinsengumi, But the silence was violently broken by muffled sobs, quietly drifting into the hall, rendering me immobile. Guilt began to silently creep into the back of my head as I listened, but I pushed it away, refusing to admit that her tears could have been my doing. Instead, I settled upon providing the common courtesy of privacy and decided not to intrude, carefully sitting down to lean against the wall. The futon was not really necessary. I closed my eyes and let my head lean forward until I was comfortable enough to drift off to sleep.

* - Hiko's name under which he sells pottery. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist throwing him in here...


	7. Avoidance

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Perhaps moments before dawn, I awoke, feeling rather irritable and stiff. The smallest movement would have jeopardized the precarious balance my sleeping figure had established, and so now my muscles ached. No way in hell I was going to do that again, no matter the circumstances.

I had no desire to wait for my wife to awaken, so I moved quietly into the room to raid for fresh clothing. In the darkness I was able to fumble through my belongings until I came across the articles I would need to complete my uniform. The faint grey light was increasing in intensity as I crept about the small room, and before I had finished my preparations, the sun had begun to rise.

As I turned to leave the room, my eyes fell upon her, despite all efforts to avoid looking at her curled form under the sheets. But now, my curiosity was piqued, and I drifted toward her sleeping figure. Crouching quietly before her, my fingers gently glided across her face to brush away the stray hair that had fallen. Her cheeks were streaked with makeup and dried tears so she looked haggard and forlorn. But even so, there was a graceful beauty about the mere shape of her face that overcame the leftover cosmetics that caked her skin. But she had stirred at my faint touch and I hastily moved away, unwilling to have her fear rekindled by waking to see me standing over her. I silently gathered my things and made my way to another room, my heartbeat violently trying to tear its way through my skin, as I stifled a shiver from the early morning chill.

Before I departed from my home entirely, I looked at her sleeping form one last time. The strengthening light cascaded across the floor, shrinking the shadows and casting a warm glow about her. My eyes averted before my desire reawakened - I had a full days work ahead of me, and I did not need to be distracted.

There was one small matter that required my attention. I made my way to the kitchen, and gently lay down an envelope where I thought she would find it relatively quickly. The money inside was that her father had given me to seal the arrangement of the marriage. I did not feel as though he had needed to sell her to me, however, so I determined it would be best if she spent the money to improve our new home however she saw fit. Our new home. Such a strange phrase. Well, perhaps I will grow accustomed to it.

My arrival to headquarters so early caused a very soft murmur to run through some of those present. The thoughts that were running through their minds were quite obvious - they assumed something had gone wrong for me to be back the day after my marriage. Several well-placed glares kept the speculation to a minimum, and I made my way to the back room to meet with the other unit leaders.

Kondou looked rather surprised to see me, but he said nothing. The briefing began as soon as I entered the room - not because they had been waiting for me, but because Kondou apparently wished to avoid any mention of my situation.

I, however, did not really care what their beliefs about my domestic circumstances were, and so when I heard of the importance of the mission about to be carried out, I was quick to volunteer. This drew another surprised glance from my superior.

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" He asked, looking a bit disturbed. "The distance to be traveled will keep you away from home for at least a day and a half-"

"I realize that, sir." I replied quietly. "But please allow me to make myself useful in such an important assignment." There was an air of irritation fairly seeping out of my leader - I knew the matches made for Shinsengumi members were done purely for political purposes. However, he did not have to fear for a breach between them - at the moment, there was nothing to be concerned about.

He allowed me to go on the mission only after that small hesitation, although a critical task, I have close to no recollection of the events that occurred. Oddly, the only moment that stands out of the forty hours or so I was gone from my home was an uncharacteristic moment of rage I displayed to one of my comrades subordinates.  
I had merely been walking amongst the men as we stealthily made our way to our destination using wooded back roads untraveled by the public when I heard it. A low whisper insinuating that one member of our team had heard, from a reliable source, that the reason I was not at home after my marriage was due to a failure on the part of my new bride. The man began to describe the supposed nature of my situation with more detail, but was cut short when he realized I was watching him intently. Smiling calmly at him, I quietly informed him that if he were to propagate such rumors and insult my wife in such a manner, I would be more than willing to hang him by his entrails from the nearest tree. My graphic depiction of his fate should he choose to cross me silenced him, and I resumed my forward motion, incensed, but unwilling to start a scuffle before an important mission - my energies would be best directed elsewhere.

I vaguely remember the mission being a success, much to the relief of all save myself. I had no particular feelings about it, as my mind was unduly employed with other matters. Clean-up was left to a local extension of a policing group, and we were allowed to return home immediately. Traveling by the back roads in our blood-stained uniforms was tiresome, but we had no choice in the matter. We did not wish to remain, exposed in unknown territory, where the enemy could find us after hearing about the incident of the night before. We traveled quickly and made it back late that afternoon.

I had avoided the main city streets, as my soiled uniform would cause an excessive amount of attention to be drawn to me. I could have gone with the rest of the men to change into civilian clothes before roaming the streets to head homeward, but I was too close to my destination to prolong the separation any further than necessary. I slipped through the gate to my home and quietly made my way up the steps and opened the door.

I could hear her moving about inside, but did not feel compelled to summon her with a greeting. Instead, I was struck with the sudden urge to remove the filthy clothes from my body, reeking of the wretched stench accompanied by blood. My katana hit the floor with a dull thud, and I began to work at removing my uniform when I felt her presence and heard her slid open the door on the wall across from where I stood.

The look on her face made me wonder if all the blood had been drained from her body in my absence. She was pale and her eyes were wide, apparently shocked by the sight of me covered in caked blood and dirt from traveling. Her gaping mouth and unwavering stare made me uncomfortable, as if she was looking right through me, and I felt the roots of disapproval beginning to take hold. Unable to look at her directly, I occupied myself entirely with carefully sliding off my soiled uniform and tossing it to the ground. Her eyes followed it, and I straightened the clothes I had worn underneath. Her silence and stillness made me feel compelled to move as if to compensate, and I unconsciously reached for my cigarettes, contemplating whether I wanted to smoke one or not. "W-would you like me to draw a bath?" She at last managed.

"Mm." I nodded, contemplating my cigarettes still. Confusion set in; I did not understand why she made me so uncomfortable. Perhaps a smoke was all I needed.

"Do those need washing?" The question struck me as particularly stupid and I felt myself growing angry. What was it about her that made me think she was different from the rest of her sex? That question alone irritated me enough to turn my back on her, pull out a cigarette, and inform her of her egregious lack of intelligence.

"Ahou. I don't like the smell of blood." At first, I was content to leave my insult just at that as I made my way back outside; as I pulled a match out to light my tobacco, another thought occurred to me. "Just as you don't like the smell of my cigarettes."

Her stillness was audible as I calmly smoked outside, content to be home and content to have a cigarette between my fingers. At last she began to move carefully, and said nothing to me for the remainder of the evening, as she dutifully drew a bath and cooked my dinner. Unfortunately, the silence gave me an unnecessarily long time to contemplate whether I had been too harsh on her; not one to second guess my decisions, I did not relish the feeling of guilt that somehow managed to creep into my mind.

I contemplated a great deal while I smoked a second cigarette after dinner what to say to her as a peace offering. The expression on her face when she had seen me earlier that day was a clear indication that she feared me and what I represented as a member of the Shinsengumi - the violence, death, and even destruction that was a facet of our everyday lives. Practicality is one of my favorite traits, and it was obvious to me that it would not do to have her angry at me for any extended period of time or I would never succeed in getting what I wanted. So when I heard her approaching, I did not turn to face her, but merely issued a gentle command.

"Go to sleep, Tokio." Her hushed response delicately teased my hearing, tempting me to turn and face her. But I did not, knowing I would not be able to resist trying again if I looked upon her face, eyes lidded with the desire to sleep, and her expression no doubt vulnerable and open due to her inability to guard herself in her exhaustion.  
I let her retire to our room, and savored the remains of my cigarette before stubbing out the glowing end in the dirt with my foot. I re-entered the house and made my way quietly to where she slept, using every skill in my power to attempt not to wake her. As I lowered myself to a separate futon, I could not prevent myself from looking at her once. Unlike the first night, there were no dried tears and no crease of her brow. She looked tranquil and satisfied, her sleep untroubled and her breath slow and steady. I watched her slumber until her own serenity caused my lids to close with a desire to achieve the same level of rest.

Like usual, however, my sleep was short and unfulfilling.

I awoke to the sound of the pattering of raindrops in a dark sky. My senses were alert at the sound, and I knew I would not be able to sleep again now that I had awoken. It was nearing what would be a veiled sunrise and I roused myself, stretching my limbs and peering through the darkness at my still peaceful wife.

With great care I rolled the futon, a clear signal to her that I had occupied the room alongside her that night. She would have to become accustomed to that eventually.

The incessant sound of rain was depressing - I did not particularly enjoy wandering about the streets of Kyoto in the rain when the mud was at its worst, which mean I would be confined to the house today. I did not feel comfortable with a female presence constantly near - I was used to my solitude. The stack of paperwork I had to go through was not enticing either. Wasting not another moment, I drew out my pack of cigarettes, only to realize my supply was dwindling fast. Well, shit. From the way things have started out today, I think I will need every last one.


	8. Progress

**Through Your Eyes**

By: Stealiana

Most of the papers I was sifting through, I realized, were completely unrelated to me. Evidently, whoever had been going through the reports must have mixed my stack with another one – most likely Harada's. Such an inconvenience, on such a gloomy day, with a dwindling supply of cigarettes… the next few hours looked bleak at best. But what had to be done had to be done, so I carefully lit one of the few remaining cigarettes, and began to separate the reports – those dealing with rumors of the Hitokiri Battousai's whereabouts, and those that were completely irrelevant.

After the Ikeyada affair, I had made hunting down the Hitokiri my personal goal. His destruction at my hands would put my mind at ease – not because he was the most feared member of the Ishin Shishi, but because I had a natural predilection to finishing what I started. Okita's battle with Battousai was invalid now, plagued by an outcome which had never been allowed to pass. Due to the delicate nature of Okita's illness, I had been forced to join a fight I had not started, strictly going against my personal principles. For better or worse, I had staked my territory, and it was accepted without hesitation that the Hitokiri Battousai was to be my prey now, and mine alone. In a way, I felt that it would be retribution for Okita; as the years had passed, we had become comrades – or at least, had developed a healthy respect of one another through our sparring practices. Perhaps in my own egotistical way, I believed I was the only person left who could fulfill the goal Okita had wished to accomplish.

My mindless stacking of reports was abruptly disrupted when I heard her voice break into my thoughts. The soft sound of her feet on the floor must have been masked by the pattering raindrops hitting the tree leaves and puddles on the path.

"Good morning…" A soft inquiry, still heavy with sleep, but guarded too, as though she feared shattering my silent solitude.

"Good morning, Tokio." The third time I had said her name. Maybe that's an odd thing to keep track of, but I liked how easily her name slid off my tongue, so simple, so delicate, that I almost wished I could say it more often. But no, don't look at her, I have to focus on these reports, they will lead me to the man I have to kill…

What the hell is this? My eyes skimmed across the report heading which seemed so familiar to me. I flipped the sheet over to see whether it had already been processed, and to my chagrin, I discovered that the report had been dealt with over a week ago. The sigh that escaped my lips was beyond my control.

"Damn it." No wonder the words had seemed familiar; it had been discussed in a prior briefing. "The bastards will never learn." I would have to remember to report the incompetence of the subordinates tomorrow at the morning meeting.

"Are you going out today?" I had all but forgotten she was standing there, silently watching me. Every shred of willpower was necessary to keep from looking at her; I knew if I did, only a matter of time was required before an action of mine offended her, and sent the remainder of my day spiraling downwards.

"No." I added her name to the end of my response mentally, knowing any more comments than absolutely necessary would further distract me from the task at hand.

"I'll go make you some breakfast; you must be hungry." Not really, but I made no protest. Part of her role as my wife was to cook for me – and if it would keep her occupied so I could concentrate on these damn reports, then so much the better. Her constant staring was making me so wary, and rather self-conscious. Well, maybe she wasn't really staring, but I could not bring myself to look to confirm the true nature of the situation. The strange apprehension I sometimes felt in her presence was amplified by the possibility that her apparent fear of me caused unpredictable fluctuations in her emotions, leading to often awkward circumstances. Unpleasant displays of emotion of which only the female half of the species was capable. Already I had begun to cultivate a healthy desire against unveiling this part of her personality, as the mysterious female nature evoked a caution I reserved only to those things I could not understand.

After an uneasily silent breakfast, I was relieved she found things about the house to occupy herself with. I found myself spending a great deal of time in between reports simply staring into the dreary rain, listening to the sounds of Tokio moving about the house, even finding myself inadvertently turning to gaze at her, sleeves rolled, scrubbing the floor, polishing the little decorations I supposed women liked to place about homes to provide a sense of comfort, beauty, or, at the least, something for uncomfortable guests to stare at. Her face was flushed from cleaning the floors; her hair had begun to fall from where she had tied it up, small strands marring her usually perfect grooming. Too often I found myself staring intently, breaking away with a small prick of embarrassment, despite the fact that she was now mine to watch when I felt inclined to do so.

In the moments I wasn't preoccupied with my observations of my wife and my half-hearted imaginings that I was happily married, I managed to focus on the reports stacked neatly in their piles before me. Sightings of the man with red hair, a cross-shaped scar on his cheek, a beast I was now to ensnare. Several write-ups conflicted but a vast majority pointed to a succinct location in the mountains where he had taken up residence once again. Informants were certain that there was another hitokiri now dealing with the assassinations. I was suspicious of the sudden shift – but I would leave that for someone else to worry about. I was only concerned with a certain Hitokiri, who was making himself scarce. Two men had already been sent to confirm his location, and track him while I made my preparations to bring the down the man believed to be the biggest threat to the Shinsengumi. Really, there were not many preparations to be made. The extent of my planning process resulted in the conclusion that I should bring enough men to deal with any comrades he may have with him, and kill Battousai with my own two hands. If I hadn't been staring at Tokio so much, this would have been completed hours ago; instead, there went the vast majority of my day, disappeared with my last cigarettes.

The rain was still coming down at a moderate pace with measured drops when I finished apathetically reading the mixed reports. Stretching my stiff limbs, I caught hold of a restlessness that had pervaded the entire day, aggravated by the confining rain, and the indescribably boring paperwork I had dealt with. Ignoring my common sense, which was diligently chiding me for not taking the time to properly attire myself as I walked to the front of our house, I stepped out under the falling drops, the coolness of the water on my skin refreshing. I momentarily wondered if I should have said something to Tokio on my way out, but then I recalled the indisputable fact that we seemed to get along best when we did not speak to each other.

The thought struck me when I entered the shop, that I must be a sight in my current state. My clothing drenched, a fine border of mud accumulated on the hem, in addition to an even coat on my sandals, my hair plastered to my forehead. Not that I particularly cared. Mud would never compare to the filth of being stained with another human's blood, as the latter was a permanent mark on the soul, if not on the clothes. Not the guilt that most people assume is connected with such an act as killing, but rather, conscientiousness. Having executed as many men as I had, my personal convictions had developed into the belief that regret was a worthless expenditure of energy. One should understand the serious implications of taking another man's life, and should weigh this before engaging in any sort of intense combat. Aku. Soku. Zan. Following such a dictum left no room for doubt or mistakes, as the supporters of this motto were to judge the characters of men and determine their fate. We knew who it was we had slain, and on what grounds. The killings were objective, yet personal, as we were fighting for our private belief, yet the belief was an immobile, untainted, universal moral truth. The path of Aku Soku Zan would never cross with that of regret.

My mind was comfortingly blank as I stood outside the shop after purchasing my cigarettes. The streets were quite bare, most people preferring to hide in their homes rather than venture out in the inclement weather. I did not particularly like walking in the rain, though it was somewhat ridiculous to really concern oneself with it. I certainly would not avoid walking out in the streets due to the simple fact that I would get wet. People could be so foolish, sometimes…

Instead of staying at the storefront to smoke the first of my new bundle of cigarettes, my dirtied feet began to move of their own accord, meticulously picking through the puddles and ruts of the street to carry me home. The stillness had begun to feel like a reprimand, my feet and the water droplets the only things that dared trespass the muted streets with their soft noises. Usually a man who valued silence over useless words, I found the quiet stifling, constricting, even. All day had been mostly wordless, I realized, and while I had to say I preferred that to having to listen to senseless chatter all afternoon, I had wanted her to talk.

"Tokio." I muttered the name under my breath, letting it melt into the steady splashes of water in the rivulets on the side of the road. A deep sigh, my shoulders sagging slightly as I craned my neck to look at the sky. Such a dismal day. I was not one for superstitions, but had observed that bad things never occurred when the sun was high, but only on days like this.

I made my way up the front steps of my house, sliding open the door without much ceremony, and stepped inside, mentally noting that I was now dripping onto the newly scrubbed floor. Oops.

Tokio appeared, instantly responding to the sound of the opening door. She did not scold me for making such a mess on the floor she had so painstakingly cleaned earlier, but merely offered the standard courtesies.

"Welcome back," she said, helping me out of my wet coat. The way she spoke; there was an unmistakable smile in her voice. And her lack of hesitation to approach me also struck me as… odd. Something was different, I could tell.

"Would you like something to eat? Really, you have not had much at all today…" The maternal tone her voice took me by surprise, as if she had asserted her authority in the domestic domain in the short time I had left to go buy cigarettes. She had not even waited for my response, no doubt already planning what to prepare for dinner as she turned to take my wet coat to hang so it would drip dry. I could not prevent myself from catching her by the shoulder, stopping her with my hand.

"There is something else I want, Tokio." She froze, and I could feel her muscles tensing in her shoulder. Perhaps things were not as different as I had perceived. Ah well. And I had thought I had removed all wishful thinking from my mind. Not wanting to frighten her as I seemed so adept at doing, I let her go, even nudging her forward to continue what she had been planning to do. A sigh escaped my lips, without thought, as I attempted to cover my forwardness by accepting her offer. "But, food will suffice."

I decided I should preface dinner with a smoke, giving me time to sort out the confusing enigma that is a woman. To be precise, the woman I married.

I slowly let out a curling tendril of smoke, raising my cigarette to my lips for another puff. All in all, I would say that had been the closest we had come to a comfortable interaction. I did not feel guilt-ridden or disgusted afterwards, which was an improvement. Yet it still left something to be desired. Sad, that our most successful conversations were those in which no words were exchanged.


	9. Pressure

**Through Your Eyes**  
By: Stealiana

Ten years, would be my best estimate. I had not cried in ten years. Well, perhaps eleven, my memory of so long ago is dulled by the chaos that surrounds me now, muted by the adrenaline that washes over my thoughts so often, faded by the blackness of the night.

I would guess that just as much time has passed since the last time I had blushed – or even felt my face grow warm without the influence of alcohol. A well-practiced rule by shinobi, samurai, and gamblers: never show emotion, for it creates an opening. A vulnerability, a weakness that can be exploited.

She keeps looking at me – I'm sure my face has a flushed look to it, I can feel it. Or maybe I'm just being paranoid. Damn it – why can't I just focus on my food - what is so damn fascinating that she keeps looking at me?

Despite feeling her gaze dart back and forth between her food and myself, I managed to finish what she had prepared for me. Her cooking was delicious, but it was difficult to enjoy when I felt scrutinized like some sort of prisoner waiting for interrogation. Why was this even getting to me anyway? Saitou Hajime, commander of the third unit, at the mercy of a woman. A woman he had barely touched. As if the very basic foundation of my person was decomposing by the minute under her questioning gaze, my demise driven by my admitted discomfort in the presence of women, and my self-proclaimed tendency to avoid personal connections on any level.

Watching her move was becoming a growing addiction, however. The slow, smooth motion as she rose to her feet, the softness of her clothing flowing with every tiny gesture, was like the ripples of a puddle when a raindrop disrupts the surface. Or, perhaps that analogy was merely the first to come to mind because it had been raining all day. I never pretended to be particularly poetic.

Her delicate, slender fingers reached for the empty bowls, but without her usual hesitation, attending to her duties with a poise and grace she had been too timid to unveil until now. Only as her hands touched the edge of my white bowl did I realize she would take the remnants of the meal and disappear into the kitchen, away from my view. Not wanting to relinquish her to her work so quickly, my hand grabbed hold of her wrist, freezing her in place.

"Where are you running to?" I drawled, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. She did not meet my gaze, and it appeared her confidence was being sapped by my touch, fading into a shadow of her former self.

"I'm not running…" She answered quietly, defensively, as if I had accused her of some great transgression. I could not help but laugh benignly at her tone. The way she stood, so still, her eyes watching my hand, her face flushed with apprehension. So… flawless.

"You turn pink so easily, Tokio." My smile curled of its own accord as I watched her face turn a deep crimson, her gaze remaining on my hand. The urge to pull her small figure against my own body struck again, stronger than the last.

I rose to my feet as she also straightened, the refusal to meet my eyes interpreted as nervousness. So she was not completely sure of herself yet, despite her even-paced, knowing actions of before. Nervous or no, she was not going to escape me that easily. Using only my fingertips, I gently turned her face to mine, tempted by her smooth skin to rub my entire callused hand against her cheek. I refrained, already able to feel how tense she was by her pulse – my hand was still strategically wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes remained trained on my chest, despite the touch of my skin against hers. Well, the time had come to at last venture one step further than awkward contact.

My thumb and forefinger crept over to her chin, steadily guiding her lips upward, a masked attempt of mine to calm her. As I leaned forward, she instinctively closed her eyes, a silent surrender I gladly accepted. No more than a slight pressure against her lips sent her pulse racing, and I pulled back to examine her face for a moment. Any traces of fear I had thought might have been present evaporated, so I bent forward again, hardly believing that I was meeting no resistance, given her previous disposition towards me. My goal was so close to being completed; she was so close to being mine!

When my lips met hers again, I tentatively ran my tongue over her closed mouth, entreating her to respond. Hesitating for no more than a fraction of a second, she complied with my request, opening just enough for the tip of my tongue to slide between her parted lips. I had waited so long for this – at last I was making progress.

Unfortunately, my sense of victory was a bit premature. Without warning, she recoiled, and at the sudden movement I released her wrist. The expression on her face said everything she could not define with words, her small hands covering her mouth, her eyes welling with tears.

What the fuck was it NOW? Were all my thoughts of her evolving behavior were merely constructs of my imagination? Every slight indication of her conduct shifting to that of a woman mature and self-assured, willing to let me touch her… a lie?

Fuck that. Do something. Don't be humiliated in front of her – no one makes me look like an ass. Where the hell did I hide those cigarettes? Ah, there they are – damn it, my hands need to stop shaking! I need to show a little self-control, a little composure. Can't let her know; can't let her see the control she has over me.

She dropped to the floor, as if her legs had disappeared, kneeling before me, forehead practically touching the ground. Ridiculous. She makes me look like a fool, and then she pretends that she is perfectly submissive? She was a living, breathing contradiction – and to hell with figuring it out!

"I'm sorry… please…" What was this? An apology? At least she had the brains to figure out I was irate.

"I'm a patient man, Tokio." My tone had been more calm than I felt, my damaged pride suffocated by my intention of preventing her from seeing any fluctuation in emotion. "I will get what I want eventually." I made my way to the door, at last holding a cigarette between my fingers, soothing me with the anticipation of a relaxing smoke, out of the house, away from this woman, away from my embarrassment, my lust, my torment.

"Next time, I won't…" Why did she insist on continuing to speak? I wanted to forget what had transpired as quickly as possible – it was unbearable to even acknowledge what had just come to pass – what I had just felt. Raising my hand, I stopped her mid-sentence, desperately attempting to maintain my dignity, at the very least.

"Do not disturb me tonight. And do not wait up." If she was going to play at being submissive, then she would follow my command. I felt myself nearing the end of my reserve of willpower; at any moment, my mouth would open and fling forth harsh words I would no doubt regret moments later.

There was a precarious pause, as I heard her climb to her feet.

"Good night." She said softly.

"Go." My irritation at how the night had unfolded had at last wormed its way into my tone, and I was rewarded by hearing her quietly make her way to our bedroom. Free at last.

Unwilling to bring my thoughts back to the recent events, I bent my focus on the most pressing issue at hand: the Hitokiri Battousai. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day, and, with any luck, a successful one. The reports from my subordinates would be coming in, I would confer with Hijikata, and then I would be allowed to gather men and plan my next move. Battousai's sword would travel back from the mountains with me, as a gift for the ailing Okita – although I knew the boy would have desired to fight the hitokiri himself. Hopefully, this would at least dampen some of the agony of his quickly declining health – it would be one goal of his life that he no longer had to surrender, as I would take it away from him. In all likelihood, the young man would be enraged at first, but given a few moments to absorb the initial shock, he would most likely be content. With a disposition such as his, he was unable to remain angry for long, and this is what I was counting on.

I had been puzzled, though, upon discovering the hitokiri was hiding away in the mountains again. The other time we had found him in that vicinity, he had taken cover with the white plum woman, pretending to be a married farmer who sold medicine, or some such ridiculous thing. The details to that whole situation were rather irrelevant by this time, as the girl was now dead, and the hitokiri reunited with the Ishin Shishi. But his sudden disappearance back into the mountains? Inexplicable, really. The other members of his group had been quite industrious lately, along with the new hitokiri, and so, for Battousai to be inactive, far away from the combat was extremely peculiar. Well, the situation would not continue, if I had any influence in the matter. Unfortunate, that I had to wait for morning to determine the next step.

My brooding on such somber subjects outlasted my cigarette, but I did not budge from my spot until the night air began to set a chill to my exposed skin. Walking back inside the house, I immersed myself yet again in the awkward situation from before, my unresolved and enigmatic feelings still churning.

My feet carried me to the silent bedroom, the distasteful knowledge that I would no doubt want her again when I saw her, yet be unable to act upon it, haunting me. Carefully sliding open the door to the room, I drank in her sleeping figure, tranquil and untarnished, as if the weight of the day's events had merely dissipated into the dark corners of the room, unable to mar her perfection.

Hell, I could tell already I would not be able to sleep in the same room with her. An ache in my chest had begun to devour my insides, leaving a gaping hole where substance had been moments before. By morning, I would be nothing but a shell, without a shred of my soul still intact. This woman was turning into some sort of parasite, eating at my flesh, my mind, with an unknowing persistence that was ubiquitous.

My memory of our first night as husband and wife, and my aching neck the following morning, brought a frown to my face, and served as a reminder that some other arrangement had to be made. Somewhere in my mind, I met resistance at the thought that I could not sleep in the same room as my wife, and I was forced to stifle the hostile reflection by insisting that it was for my own sanity. As a proud man who was rarely wrong, merely staying in this room for a moment too long was a new slash at my ego, another insult to my being. I had no desire to be humbled, and I had no fondness for these emotions constantly clouding my vision. To hell with all of it, I was going to sleep somewhere else.

Feeling somewhat like a dog kicked from its shelter, I rolled up the futon with everything I would need inside, including clothing for the next day. Hefting it onto my shoulder, I quietly crept from the premises, slipping into the guest room further down the hall to lick my wounds and nurse my perceived injuries.

I should have sensed the following day was going to be troublesome – fate has an annoyingly predictable way of aggravating circumstances until a normal human being is at his wit's end. While I will be the first to claim that I am superior to most human beings, I will acknowledge that even I am capable of falling into fate's trap; occasionally, I even indulge in a slight struggle, for which I habitually emerge on the losing side of the skirmish.

No sooner had I entered the meeting with Hijikata, Kondou, and the nine other unit leaders when things began to go awry. The entire morning briefing consisted of several commanders bitching and moaning about being understaffed. Throughout the discussion, if it could even be called that, I was silent, but thoroughly irritated by the insistence of my comrades. At last, Hijikata silenced them with the sharp rebuke that if they had complaints, they should have arrived on time when the new recruits had been screened. Tardiness was unacceptable to the Shinsengumi leaders, and it was understandable. Arriving a moment too late could cost a life, or worse, failure of the mission. Any fighter worth his weight in rice knew such an elementary teaching, but most warriors tended to allow such a practice to lapse in other matters. The leader of the Shinsengumi and his right-hand man, however, firmly believed that the practices of the group, in order to be truly successful, must be present in every aspect of one's life. For my part, I tried not to think very much about the matter, and usually relied on my instincts as a guide for my conduct. The only philosophy I wholeheartedly embraced with every grain of my being and every breath I took was that of Aku Soku Zan. As for punctuality, that was a matter I deemed to be unworthy of an entire morning discussion.

My frustrations were to merely increase from there. Two of my informants who had sent reports of the Hitokiri Battousai's movements had returned rather unexpectedly, and were waiting to talk to me. After that spectacle of a meeting with the other officers, I met with the two men, who, I noticed immediately and with a degree of annoyance, looked extremely uncomfortable. I knelt opposite their already seated figures, placing my katana at my side unhurriedly.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

"Good morning, sir." The two responded in unison, one shifting awkwardly at having to speak. There was no point in delaying my questioning any further – I was not known for attempts to be friendly with my men, and these two understood that. Those under my command knew they were merely tools to me, used to perform a necessary task quickly and proficiently. To their credit, they trusted my judgment, and perhaps inherently sensed that, given my predisposition for efficacy, I would not put them in a situation that was not tailored to suit their individual strengths and weaknesses. Maybe it would be best to phrase my outlook on leadership as ruling the men not by a loyalty to a leader they loved, but instead by binding them to one they believed to be infallible. My men became fearless, not because they would willingly die for me, but because they believed that under my expert leadership, they would unquestionably live to see tomorrow. Some might argue that this method in itself spawns a sort of idolatry which parallels that of loving one's leader, that by never asking for such undying allegiance, I had indeed instilled the conviction that under my command, the men were untouchable, turning them into a following that would indeed shadow my footsteps should I walk towards imminent death. For my part, I never really analyzed my leadership skills, as I led the only, albeit somewhat selfish, way I knew how. I did not particularly care whether my subordinates would follow me into the pits of Hell anyway, as part of my leadership method was to avoid putting my men and myself in such a predicament.

"Your report." When I spoke, I did not give permission, I did not ask, nor did I command. I merely stated their purpose, and they took it as their cue to proceed.

"Yes, sir. We come with troubling news."

Excellent. That was always what I wanted to hear – right after: 'The unit was caught, sir, and has been destroyed.' No doubt they sensed my irritation at the bad tidings, as the other man shifted uncomfortably and coughed politely.

"The men we assigned to monitor the hitokiri's movements… were… killed, sir." He swallowed, fearing my wrath, but knowing he had to choke out the words anyway. "And the target is no longer stationary."

Damn it. I give these little shits one job to do, one fucking job, and they already managed to mess it up. Oh, how they tried my patience!

"Do you know where he was headed?"

"Yes. He did not leave in the direction of Kyoto – our scouts did not see him traveling past any of the checkpoints, and Akira's unit was able to get a trace on him."

The only response I could muster for such a situation was a heavy sigh. Rumors had been flitting about a meeting of some rebel leaders – the Ishin leader, Katsura, would be among them. Courting the weaker groups, trying to consolidate them into some sort of tangible force to oppose the Shinsengumi – an insult to our skill, really, insinuating we would be subjugated by such meager opponents.  
Ridiculous.

"Is that all you have for me?" The shorter this meeting was, the happier I would be, as there was less of a chance for something else to go horribly amiss.

"Yes, sir." At that, my hand reached for my katana, and I stood, setting the weapon back within the folds of my uniform.

"I am very displeased with the results of this operation." Rarely did I raise my voice when I truly was upset – there was a factor infinitely more menacing in keeping my tone level, unreadable, while explicitly stating my dissatisfaction.

"Yes, sir." They bowed their heads in unison, unable to face me.

"I will speak with Kondou and Hijikata about how we should proceed; meet me here in four hours." A muffled declaration of obedience drifted to my ears as I stalked from the room, thoroughly irritated. Now, I would be forced to wait around here for far longer than I anticipated in order to meet with one of the head officials, tell them of my subordinates' failure, face their rage, before I could even suggest methods of salvaging the scouting mission. Absurd, how much could backfire over the course of a few hours.

Having no desire to stay on the compound and no will to speak with anyone remotely connected with the Shinsengumi, I decided I would venture into town to visit my favorite street vendor and order some soba noodles to placate me. I entertained the thoughts of ordering a different dish, perhaps Kitsune soba, or Tanuki… but in the end, I always reverted to the standard zaru soba. In my mind, there is nothing bland about ordering the same food repeatedly, and perhaps it dealt with my belief that the actions determine the man. My very eating preferences – the most simple, ordinary plate of soba – was itself an indication of my indifference to overindulgence.

Purchasing the meal from my favorite noodle vendor – I was slightly amused that the man would see me coming and already know what to prepare for me – I was about to find a suitable place, out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the streets, to pause and savor the delicious food I had just bought when the man spoke out suddenly.

"Excuse me, eh, Saitou-san." The vendor had reached out to stay me, and inadvertently grabbed my sleeve. "I'm s-sorry." He stammered, looking in fear at my uniform for a moment, his eyes darting up to meet my gaze. Upon seeing I was merely curious as to what he wanted, he continued.

"A young man came by here earlier today, looking for you. Seems he knew you stopped by often."

"Oh? Did he leave a name?"

"No – he said that would be unnecessary, as he knew where to look for you."

"Ah – well, thank you anyway." The polite smile melted off my face as soon as I turned away. Today was turning out to be quite an unfavorable day for me. There was only one person who came to mind, and what was he doing here? Right before things were going to escalate... what the hell?


	10. Confrontation

**Through Your Eyes  
**By: Stealiana

Damn this practice hall, damn this wooden practice sword, damn the wait to see Kondou and Hijikata… damn all of it! To think this piece of shit broke after so short a time…

Infuriated, I aimed for a nearby support beam and threw the remnants of my practice sword at it – first with my right, then my left hand. Both halves hit the center of my imaginary target, bypassing several training swordsmen. The rage which had been pent up all morning reached its boiling point – I would like nothing more than to beat the crap out of some idiot, and all the men now staring at me in the training facility seemed fair game.

With a bit of restraint, I was able to turn away from the opportunity – I had no intentions of causing trouble, which would follow quickly if I challenged one of these men, and in a matter of days, each one would play a crucial role in subduing rebel forces. Injuring them now would be unwise, to say the least, and my desire to have our mission succeed overrode my need to feed my ravenous hunger for violence.

No sooner had I stepped forward to retrieve the fragments of my now destroyed practice weapon when I heard a snort behind me.

"Trying to infringe on my style?"

I knew without looking the owner of the voice was Harada Sanosuke – the leader of the tenth unit, who had some unnatural obsession with fighting with a damn spear. Granted, the man was able to use the pointed stick very adeptly, for something so unwieldy and unprofessional, and for this I gave him miniscule amount credit. On an average day, I would show him a reasonable amount of respect, as all Shinsengumi captains warranted, but I despised his boisterous, cocky nature, always drawing attention to himself when, in truth, he was the worst fighter amongst the commanders. In some inexplicable way, he did garner the admiration of his men, but as I was not one of them, I did not particularly care for Harada.

But today, of all days, I had been forced by protocol alone to sit quietly and listen to him bitch and whine about a setback that was rooted in his own inadequacy, in addition to having to wrestle some problems of my own. Hearing this little shit comment on my minor outburst, after the endless stream of mishaps crossing my path earlier, broke the little patience I had left in reserve, and I turned to face him, the training hall falling silent. How badly I wanted to strike the smirk off his face could not be described by words alone.

"I wouldn't waste my time trying to imitate you." I responded; my barb unmasked. Darkness crossed his features momentarily, lingering long enough for me to smugly observe that my hostility aggravating him.

"Who shoved a stick up your ass?" The tenth commander shot back, hoping to provoke me. One insult, and he was already goaded enough to attempt a retaliation via physical force. What a simpleton.

My silent appraisal and apparently evident disdain of him irritated him more than any retort I could have uttered.

"You couldn't handle my technique even if you tried." Harada smirked, his sudden attempt to be confident and overbearing a good show for the spectators; the way they caught their breath simultaneously indicated as much. As for its effect on me – the act fell flat.

"I'm sure I could defend against your technique using no more than the alleged stick up my ass." I painstakingly brushed an imaginary fleck of dirt off my uniform, a small gesture intended to convey his insignificance in my mind.

"You sonuvabitch…"

"My ancestry has no bearing on your poor technique." Folding my arms, I returned my gaze to him, satisfied that the tables had been turned. Control of his anger led to control of the situation – now that he was under my power I could focus without distraction.

"I could beat you into the ground with my bare hands!" Harada leaned forward, his eyes burning with a desire to do exactly as he promised. Well. He could try. But that was all he would succeed in doing – merely attempting.

"Oh? Then why haven't you?" Peaked… now collapse!

His restraint clearly had snapped – we were both aware of the consequences of our imminent skirmish, but they were permissible. Hijikata could only lecture us so much – at this point, we were invaluable to the upcoming missions, and so he really could not threaten us for engaging in a slightly overzealous sparring match. Well, perhaps slightly would be an understatement.

He leapt forth with a feral snarl, fists pulled back to release with a fury I dared not encounter head-on. No, I had much better plans.

First came the left – as I suspected, for it was drawn tighter, behind his shoulder to give it more leverage. Elementary, easily dodged. Now came the right – really Harada, I'm not stupid. Duck, aim for his stomach – oh, so he's not as slow physically as mentally? Not surprising. I find it difficult that anything could be lethargic as his brain. Then, I shall make you dance, Harada…

I dropped the floor, using my palms for balance against the wooden boards as I swiped at his legs with my own. Off-balance, he caught his sideways fall and was able to propel himself back onto his feet. I also regained my footing, and we stood, measuring each other carefully. I waited – but not for long.

Impatient to regain his dignity, he charged again. Fool. His hand-to-hand combat was lacking so severely it would hardly be a challenge.

With a smirk, I caught one fist in my palm, then the other. His eyes bulged, a clear indication of his surprise, but he had no idea what was in store for him. Hardly a second passed before I reared my head back, as if preparing to strike him with my skull. Of course, he instinctively pulled back his face, and had no sooner done so than I yanked him forward, raising my knee to strike his most vulnerable area.

I held him in that position for a moment, he, too pained to do or say anything, and I, too pleased at the sight of his jaw hanging open so listlessly that drool was beginning to pool atop his tongue. At last I released him, letting him slump to the floor amidst the silence in the hall.

Celebration cigarette? Quite appropriate. The little shit got what was coming to him.

"Just wanted to verify that you were a man." My cigarettes had to be in here somewhere… ah, here they were.

"You…sonuva… that… was dirty…" he hoarsely croaked, refraining from clutching at himself as the pain began to ebb.

"In combat, it is foolish not to exploit an enemy's weakness." The stench of sulfur greeted my nostrils pleasantly as I struck my match, lifting it to the tobacco hanging from my lips. "You really should work on your defenses." Without another word, I stalked from the practice hall, and the men in my path separated like tall rice stalks before me.

x x x

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hijikata glared at me, his voice threateningly even. My, my – I really landed myself in trouble this time.

"We ask of each member to abide by five rules! Recite them." Such a childish reprimand, to regurgitate the principles of the Shinsengumi, as if the mere reiteration would suddenly enlighten me as to my wrongdoing. Infuriating as I found this to be, I recited them as calmly as possible.

"Dai ichijou: I cannot deviate from bushido. Dai nijou: I cannot leave the Shinsengumi. Dai sanjyou: I am not allowed to make money outside the organization for my own convenience. Dai shijou: I cannot partake in legal action outside the Shinsengumi. Dai gojou: I am not allowed to engage in private fights."

"And the punishment for breaking any one of these?"

"Seppuku."

"What is our most basic principle?"

"…Loyalty." This encounter was quickly fraying any patience I had recovered courtesy of my skirmish with Harada. By the time I was through here, I was going to be even angrier than I had been in the training hall. Damn Harada for opening his mouth, and being such an ass, prancing around with his sharp stick all the time.

"Why did you fight against Harada-san?" Kondou interrupted, stealing the momentum from Hijikata's rebuke. Just as well, for I did not care to hear how my actions were so clearly a disgrace to the Shinsengumi and all we represented, and how I had neither respect for nor loyalty to my comrades.

"He offered a sparring match." Not the whole truth – saying it had been an offer was a bit of a stretch, it was more like he had instigated a match. And to say we were only sparring was not entirely correct, but the fact that Harada was not permanently injured would work in my favor. His humiliation was a factor I intended to leave out entirely.

"That's not what we were told." Kondou sat, legs folded, hands tucked into the sleeves of the uniform.

"Harada-san and I exchanged opinions on the other's defense tactics. That is all."

"You understand, Saitou-san," Kondou's gaze did not leave my face as he spoke, completely still except for his mouth. "Had we discovered the incident had been more than a simple sparring match… well. Steps would have had to have been taken."

"Yes, sir." Bullshit. Utter, complete, bullshit. Harada was the weakest of all of us, yet barked the loudest, like a scrawny dog trying to convince the pack of his superiority. He did more than deserve a beating, he fairly begged for it. And I, Saitou Hajime, leader of the third unit, was going to be punished for his blatant stupidity? My actions were not only defensible, they were admirable! To put his pride in place was actually a great service for the Shinsengumi – he would be a more able fighter if he pulled his head out of his ass.

"Do not make a mistake you will regret. Hijikata and I will not tolerate any deviation from the rules you recited. Be sure you do not create a situation where you have a personal vendetta against another member."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, for the other matters we were to discuss with you. What do you have to report."

Well, damn it, now I had to tell them about this mess. Word had traveled from the practice hall to here very quickly – I had not anticipated dealing with both problems at once. They would not take my report well if they were already angered, which I had succeeded in doing so adeptly.

"The hitokiri took out my men, save the two who arrived this morning. Akira and his men are tracing him currently, and send word that Battousai is not attempting to make his way back into Kyoto, as he has not passed the designated checkpoints."

Kondou's eyes narrowed, and Hijikata let out a huff of disapproval at my grave tidings. Being the more vocal of the two, Hijikata was first to berate me – yet again.

"An unwise decision, sending Akira and his men to trace the hitokiri. After all, if he was able to discover your first group and dispatch them, then what leads you to believe he will not do the same with the second?"

"I never told them to trail him – it was a decision Akira made that he thought would secure the mission."

A poor defense, I knew, but it was true; the only thing I had told the man to do was see the mission through, however he deemed best to achieve the desired end of gathering information. If the man had done so by signing his death warrant – that was his prerogative.

"So you're saying you let your men run wild?" Hijikata sneered at me, his frustration blatantly evident. If I wanted to keep my head attached to my shoulders, I would do well to tolerate his behavior. However, my executive capabilities were coming in to question, and I would not take such insults lying down. My eyes instinctively narrowed as I kept my gaze locked with his.

"I told him to complete the mission, and that should he fail, or succeed in a way I found unacceptable, he would have to answer to my authority."

"To be fair," Kondou interrupted the tension growing between myself and the belligerent Hijikata with a few well-placed words. "Saitou-san has yet to severely discipline any of his men – an achievement worthy of respecting his methods. Hijikata, please call in Itou-san. We will need to rethink our plans of deployment for the upcoming mission."

"Yes, sir." Hijikata bowed his head to his superior, exiting the room to do as he was asked.

"Now, Saitou-san, because of these unfortunate incidents, you will be deployed for the ambush of the Ishin meeting, and your hunt for the Hitokiri Battousai, while valuable to our association, will be postponed for the time being. The impending events will be of infinitely greater importance – a hitokiri without orders is as useless as a maimed one. Breaking down the structure of our enemy's organization will bring swift victory to our cause."

"Yes, sir." There were no grounds on which I could protest – everything Kondou had said was true; my only motivation for trying to destroy the hitokiri now was for Okita's sake, and I could not really cite that as a legitimate reason to proceed. Damn Article Five…

The plans were tedious, and did not particularly hold my interest. My own unit had minimal responsibility for the initial attack, and was mainly to secure the perimeter while the others went in. We would be getting the sides flanked by woods – Nagakura and his unit would be taking care of the street and the building next door. To my chagrin, I saw that Harada would be entering the premises on my side, which would no doubt cause a problem or two. Both of us would need to be careful – after our indiscretion earlier this afternoon, any new conflicts between us would not be tolerated.

The impromptu planning session ended after taking much longer than I expected, and it was roughly dinnertime before I was permitted to leave. The day had been one disaster after another, and the prospect of facing my wife and most assuredly another catastrophe to add to the ever-growing list did not appeal to me. But what other choice did I have?

Stepping out into the subdued streets as the evening light set upon the city, lengthening shadows covering a few stragglers that were darting to their homes where a warm meal was waiting for them, I was struck by the change that had taken place over the midday bustle of the roads. Most of the vendors peddling their wares had retired for the evening, and now only flickers from the windows of buildings lining the street were left to greet those who traveled the roads.

The thought sparked a recollection of the conversation I had had with the noodle vendor earlier that day, and without a pause, I immediately changed the direction my feet were carrying me. Before I could go home, there was something I needed to take care of.

I did not stop walking until I stood in front of the restaurant Okita and I frequently visited in the days he was still the first unit commander and I had yet to be married. Although it had been quite some time since I had last stepped through the doorway, upon sighting me the hostess painted a large smile on her face, welcoming me and asking would I like to sit in the usual spot.

The back corner of the restaurant still appealed to me, as it enabled me to overlook the entire establishment, and watch the people there, observing their activity. Only now I sat alone, watching the windows until darkness has settled its cloak over the town, and then silently studying the patrons of the establishment.

Unfortunately, those circumstances did not last; shortly after I had received my bottle of sake and some soba noodles, a palm slapped down on the table top, and a familiar uniform slid down, pulled by gravity, to cover the bare wrist.

I reached for my sake cup, ignoring the sudden intrusion to my solitude, and feeling slightly irritated that my vigil was going to end sooner than I anticipated. Despite willing myself to do otherwise, I met the gaze of the offending man standing over my drink and dinner – and the shrubbery sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

"You realize that chewing on grass makes you look like an unrefined idiot, Harada." My icy remark prompted me to look away, pick up my chopsticks, and become completely absorbed in the meal that was before me. I would not, should not, antagonize him. Although, he had approached me first – but that was childish reasoning, more suited to him than me.

"You realize that opening your mouth makes you sound like an ass." Taking the liberty of sprawling out in the seat across from me, he watched me with an obnoxious leer painted across his face. What I would give for the opportunity to erase that from his range of expressions completely.

"I do." I stated matter-of-factly, shooting him another malicious glare, and then focusing intensely on the soba noodles beckoning to my rumbling stomach. He was insistent upon ruining my meal, and was succeeding. The sooner I could dismiss him from his presence, the more intact my sanity would be.

"Well, so long as you've got food and drink in front of you, I s'pose you'll be fairly tolerable. It'll keep your mouth full."

I let the insult slide, more concerned by his movement to reach for the sake I had ordered than his verbal abuse. Luckily for him and my waning temper, he noticed the alertness with which I was studying his reach, and with a slight wave of his hand, he tried to dispel my aggressiveness.

"Fine, fine…" he sighed, before belting out a loud call for sake from the waitress. I grimaced at his rudeness, and at having attention drawn to our corner – and unfortunately, Harada caught the expression on my face.

"S'alright!" He grinned, leaning over the table to ensure I was listening, as I refused to meet his gaze. "I slept with her 'bout a week ago."

Definitely, positively, absolutely more information than I needed to know. Completely irrelevant information, I might add, which neither helped to explain his behavior nor give me reason to condone it. I couldn't help but wonder if kneeing him in the balls had somehow addled his brain, or if he had always been this… stupid.

"You have no shame." I muttered under my breath, slurping at my noodles with deliberate concentration. True, Harada was a womanizer. True, he was proud of this achievement – no doubt it was the only success someone such as himself could accomplish. But I did not care to know, or care in any regard, about his exploits away from the Shinsengumi, and I certainly did not relish his continued presence.

His own bottle of sake arrived; Harada poured himself a cup, before leaning back to dump it down his foul throat, foregoing any pleasure in the experience. Proof that yet again, he was an uncivilized moron.

"Maybe not," was his reply, a moment later, as he refilled his cup. "But if I wasn't hangin' around here, you'd be eatin' alone, my friend."

The smugness with which he made that statement, and the fact that he had condescendingly tacked on "my friend" cut me to the quick. Conjuring his humiliation earlier was the only way to cool my temper and allow me to deal with him in an unemotional way.

"You do not know what my plans were, before you so rudely interrupted them." I responded, unable to keep myself from responding, although ignoring him entirely would probably result in a faster departure.

"Aw hell, I'm not stupid!" Harada scoffed.

Well. That was debatable. No, not really – he WAS stupid, as far as I was concerned.

"Like I haven't seen you in here before with the kid!" Harada was saying, ignoring my slight confusion by the reference, before I realized he was speaking of Okita. "So obviously you're waiting for him, but I'm gonna tell you now, he ain't coming."

Today had been such a long and arduous day, and the fates seemed to be crushing every bud of agreeability that was attempting to flower. If only the fates materialized before me, I would skewer them, repeatedly, to repay them for their treatment of me. Now, I had Harada, sneering like a cat that had swallowed the prize koi, hiding some nugget of information that he might, if he was feeling charitable, share with me. What was perhaps more disconcerting was the fact that I was indeed waiting for Okita – he was the only one who would know of my favorite noodle vendor, and not bother to leave a name or message of some kind – and that Harada knew of the boy's whereabouts. The fact that Okita had suddenly, after disappearing for awhile due to his health problems, resurfaced before an important mission was about to take place concerned me, and I intended to find out what he was up to. But Harada grinning like an ass across the table from me merely cemented my suspicions that something was amiss.

"Oh? What makes you say that."

"Well, you know it's a funny thing." The lanky man seemed to be taking great pleasure in this conversation, and savored ever word. "But I happened to be walking around town earlier this evening, and I happened to see our boy chattin' with a damn fine lady. The strange thing is – they were standing on the doorstep of YOUR house. Now, you may argue I lack cultural refinement, or somethin' ridiculous like that, but to me, seems awful improper to have a wife of – what is it? Three days? – smilin' and battin' her eyelashes at the kid."

I had stopped eating at the mention of the woman, realizing slowly just who Harada was referring to. Tokio? My Tokio was with… Okita Souji this afternoon? He had been looking for me, so it was reasonable that he had ended up at my dwelling, yet that had been hours ago. Long before Harada would have been wandering about the streets… no, they were surely lies.

"Not everyone is like you, Harada."

"True. I don't particularly like to fuck around with married women."

"Unfortunate for you, isn't it, that I don't believe a word that leaves your mouth. Don't you think I can see through your transparent act? Trying to humiliate me in return for the healthy dose of shame I dealt you earlier?"

"Che, I know what I saw, asshole." Harada seemed slightly disgruntled, his hands gripping the sake bottle tightly. "Yeah, I'll admit I wanna see you squirm, but I didn't figure on you being this dense. Women like her might end up marrying shits like us – but I sure as hell run into lotsa ladies of her caliber who want a little excitement that doesn't include their spouse." He leaned forward a little further, lowering his voice and displaying discreetness, for once. "Plus, you know as well as I that Okita isn't gonna go much further. The kid's gonna be like all other kids and enjoy what time he's got left. Marriage, laws, morality – he's immune to that, doesn't have to follow the rules."

"I think you need to stop projecting your own filthy habits onto others. Clearly, you have no grasp of the real circumstances, else you would not make such foolishly ridiculous insinuations."

Harada finished off his sake, straight from the bottle, putting it down with a note of finality and shaking his head.

"Well, when you end up with a kid that doesn't look like you, don't bitch to me."

"I would never come to you, regardless of the situation."

"All I'm sayin' is only friends can get close enough to stab you in the back." With a small shrug, he eased himself up, shoving his hands into the folds of his uniform, suddenly ignoring my presence. Spotting another acquaintance of his, he proceeded to make his way toward them, loud and irritating, leaving me to my bottle of sake, and suddenly unpleasant thoughts. As much as I distrusted Harada, I did not have him pegged as a liar. A loudmouth, yes – but everything he said he did believe to be true, misguided as it may have been. And that was why this troubled me.

Politely calling to the waitress, I asked for another bottle of sake.

**A/N:** (yea, I'm addicted to these things) For those who may have noticed – Harada Sanosuke and Sanosuke Sagara ARE strikingly similar characters. That's because in the manga, Watsuki mentioned in one of HIS author's notes that Sanosuke had been based on Harada, sooo I took the liberty of making them almost identical. I'm not done with the 10th unit commander just yet… you can look forward to him popping up again in unexpected places. Hehe – he was my surprise character in this fic, in the same way as I had a surprise character in the other. Hope you enjoyed the longer chapter - I may not be able to come out with one for awhile, as I am currently in college and involved in a fiction writing class which will suck up most of my time. We'll see.


	11. Reaction

**Through Your Eyes  
**By: Stealiana

I had lost count of how many bottles had been brought and taken away by the waitress as I patiently waited, Harada's words still ringing in my ears. If Okita was back from wherever it was he had disappeared off to before my wedding, he would have met up with me here… so why hadn't he come? What could have drastically changed between this afternoon and now that he was unwilling to face me?

My thoughts drifted back to the few conversations we had over our customary sake in which he had commented on my impending marriage, and my future wife. Looking back on them now, I could hear an insistent tone of envy, and perhaps even resentment. His casual mention that "no one" expected it. But what was I thinking… this couldn't be true…

Standing proved to be more of a task than I realized, with the ground swaying beneath my feet in an uneven, jerking motion. Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind I pondered how unseemly it must be to have the third unit captain staggering out into the street after-hours, but my primary focus was putting one foot in front of the other and trying to ignore the jumbled thoughts in my mind. Through with waiting for him, the only thing left to do was trace my steps from earlier this morning and return home. To a wife who did not want to see me, to a wife who would not let me touch her, to a wife who… who… what had I been thinking when I married her? What I had expected, really? There was the element of physical attraction, but that had never played an integral role in my decision making. She served her purpose of cooking, cleaning, and whatever other womanly duties it was she attended to while I was absent, but it seemed so… empty. As if she was a mere husk of a human, an imitation of a woman, filled with poise and grace but no substance. I had not seen her like this before – no, when I glimpsed her in the market with her mother, when I chanced to see her gossiping with her friends, she had been… genuine. If I had touched her flesh, it would have been warm then; now she was like a corpse, cold and unmoving.

Harada's insinuations bit deeper than he knew. The thought that Okita was bringing out qualities of her that she refused to share with me struck a powerful and venomous chord of jealousy in my soul. Seeping into every inch of my body, until I was consumed with a possessiveness I had not realized I could conjure. Yes, I was proof that Okita could sew seeds of friendship in the most barren of hearts, and it would almost be asinine to deny that he could have such an effect on Tokio – except this was my wife. Bound to be loyal to me, and involved with no other man! Yet the facts were stacked against my mental insistence that Harada's ramblings were false – Tokio and I had yet to even consummate our union. Okita was a young man, persuasively charming, and surely possessing the capability to woo any woman he chose. Would it be unreasonable to suspect that her avoidance of me could be because she… she…

Fuck that, she was mine! There was no way in hell I would let anyone humiliate me, and damn it, steps are hard to manage when the ground is tilting this way and that…

I grabbed onto the post of the porch, hauling myself up the final steps. Damn it, damn it, DAMN it. I don't want to walk through that door, and see… and see her stare at me like she always does with that blank fucking look… like… like… damn it!

My hands rested on the door to steady myself, and I flung it open, standing still so I would not lose my balance now that I had discarded my support.

No… oh shit, no, no no… Harada's a little fuck, there's no way…

But there was that smell. Blood. But it was not the impersonal metallic smell that blood carried on the nights of secret missions and skirmishes with the opposing forces. No, this was that rotting, decaying, foul smell of blood, of death that hovered on silent wings, circling with vultures, waiting for its host to crumble in its parasitic fingers. This was the smell of blood and sickness… this was Okita.

I may not have believed Harada, as he no doubt dramatized trivial events, and I would have ignored my previous musings as merely drunken ponderings. But my senses never misguided me. Hell, I had an unnatural ability to detect smells of people or things and this… this was substantial evidence I could not ignore.

"Tokio!" Moments ago I had not wanted to see her, but now that I knew he had been here, my desire to face her, appraise her before I leveled an accusation was overpowering. Any reasoning capabilities I had were completely surrendered to the alcohol I had consumed and my newfound sense of betrayal.

"What is it?" Her voice drifted to my ears, accompanied by her footsteps heading in my direction. What it is, I wanted to say, is that my honor is on the line. You've made me look like a fool, being adulterous with someone I considered a friend! To regain my dignity, I should… I must…

"Where the hell is my katana?" I spat out angrily, not noticing nor caring that I had spoken aloud. The one that was tucked in my uniform was not my katana, it couldn't be – too unbalanced and unsure – or was that me? I could not tell anymore, the line between what I was feeling and seeing blurred beyond distinction.

"Really, you should rest. I'm sure you've been quite busy today…"

What the hell – she was trying to get rid of me! Oh no, no, no, no. She could not escape my inquiries, my questioning. I would know the damn truth before I shut my eyes tonight.

"I smell blood," I began, attempting to make sense despite my tongue seeming absurdly thick in my mouth and difficult to control. "Where the hell is the son of a bitch?"

"Honestly, I haven't any idea what you're talking about!" Her indignation, her confusion – I had married such a good fucking liar.

"Don't patronize me!"

"I wasn't…"

"I want to know where the hell he is! I smell his blood!" Why did she keep denying it? Making me look and feel like a damn idiot…

"Who?" Her voice denoted a panic that had to set in, but I could not listen to it anymore. Clamping her mouth shut with one hand, I ignored the whimper as she squirmed beneath my hold. Only one way to find out the truth… to trust the instincts that had verified Okita had been present. I thrust my face against her neck, inhaling her scent, on the alert for any tainting by him.

"No, no, you don't smell of death," the relief flooding through me calmed my rage, but did nothing to secure my judgment, still unfettered due to my inebriation. "You smell of rain. Summer rain…"

Fresh, sweet summer rain, cleansing the oppressed Earth, so soft and refreshing. Not the glaring sun beating down relentlessly in the midst of the day.

The tranquil analogy did not soothe my churning thoughts, however, as a new irrational idea surfaced, more commanding than my previous anger. I had to claim her first, and then, only then, would I have nothing to worry about…

My hands fumbled, attempting to grasp at the cloth beneath my fingertips, at last clutching above her shoulder and awkwardly pulling on the fabric.

"I want it!" My inebriation was preventing me from formulating the proper words, or voicing my thoughts that continued spinning, dancing, moving – much like the floor beneath my feet. "Give it to me!" A command that must be obeyed, I thought, simply operating on the assumption that I held some indefinable power over her.

The rip was so loud in my ears, as I exposed her delicate flesh to the air. I heard nothing but the scream of the fabric, warning me of the irreparable damage I was about to inflict before my senses were obliterated with the sensation of her hand slapping against my skin.

Pain. Blood. Fuck, did I just bite through my tongue?

No… the sudden outburst had caused me to clamp my jaw, but it was only superficial damage. Her eyes watched me; I let go of her, and pressed my fingers against the spot of her defiance, as the metallic, sterile taste filled my mouth, and overloaded my brain.

"Damn it. My tongue." I muttered, subsequently about to swallow the pool of fluid gathering in my mouth.

I was bleeding from her hand. What the hell was going on – I had seen it coming out of the corner of my eye, and yet… I had let it go, I had not prepared myself. I had… allowed it to happen.

No… she had not crushed me. In a movement of rebellion against this sudden thought, I spat out the blood collecting behind my lips at her feet, as if to place the blame before her.

Turning abruptly, I staggered towards the door leading outside, my hand lightly against the wall to support me as I made my way away from her.

Immune to the chill in the air, I clumsily sat myself on the porch steps outside. I held the ledge of the structure, occasionally spitting out the bloody saliva gathering in my mouth. The wet spots in the dirt were glaring at me, even in the dark.

My ego had convinced me that I was quite able to hold my liquor, regardless of how much I had drank and how little I had eaten. Yet my mind was whirring, as if a deer had suddenly attached itself to my brain and was dragging it along as it dashed through a forest. A dark forest that kept moving no matter how still I tried to be. All these horrible thoughts that I had never realized hid in the back of my mind came to the fore, shouting for my attention. Parading behind them were even worse emotions, the twisting of my heart accusing me of the most egregious of errors. And they circled in, cutting me off from my ability to rationalize, to analyze – my logic was helpless under this assault of wordless internal agony.

My stomach turned with each pang of unnamable anguish. The desire to purge myself of the demons in my mind, cackling and crowing as I squirmed beneath their power, was overwhelming me, and I preemptively leaned when I felt the next wave of nausea.

After I vomited, there was a moment of quiet in my mind, a second of peace. My body fell limply against the boards, and I did not attempt to move or think for as long as possible.

Yet my brain was not finished with its flood of guilty conscience. Without prompting, my mind repeated the incident over and over, forcing me to relive what little my senses had gathered during the encounter. My sobering self could not avoid the grim, yet entirely new, concept that began to spin in my thoughts.

I am Saitou Hajime, captain of the third unit of the prestigious Shinsengumi. And I am contemptible.


	12. Capitulate

**Through Your Eyes**

By: Stealiana**  
**

The night was full of faces, pale, bloated Kabuki masks. Howling and cackling, taunting and shrieking, swaying and pounding their drums incessantly through my attempt to sleep. She stood behind them all, her back to me, frozen in place. In her arms, a furry creature watched me over her shoulder, with large, watery rhinoceros eyes and sharp tiger paw claws perched delicately under a hypnotic, dancing elephant's trunk.

There is no room in my life for dreams, and I do not attend to superstitions like the old crones that prattle in the street markets. But to have my own mind betray me with images of my wife cradling a dream-eating Baku was more than I could stand on that particular morning. My own subconscious accusing, somehow, that she was holding back a vital piece of my very existence. Childish. If the night before had taught me anything, it was that I am the demon who chews and digests my own dreams until they are an unrecognizable, distasteful pulp.

I would like to have forgotten it as soon as my eyes opened, but despite the welcome sensation of my dewy and clammy clothes, the echoes of the drums would not leave my mind. It overpowered my urge for a cigarette.

The morning was overcast and glum, an accurate depiction of my own frame of mind. My insides felt unsettled, although not due to the liquor from the night before. I had unceremoniously rid myself of that before going to sleep, and as undignified as it might have been at the time, I found myself moderately grateful. I had a difficult task before me that I did not feel fully equipped to address, and I would need my full concentration.

I leaned my head back against the wooden slats of our home, eyes closed. This unpleasant feeling of failure was one I had tasted before, although usually it was accompanied by a physical pain, and a deep, unsightly bruise or festering wound. Then I remembered how her hand had struck me, and I let my own fingers trace that outline.

A common mistake among amateur soldiers and commanders is the unwillingness to critique ones own failure. Mistakes are made on a constant basis, and all too often pushed immediately behind innumerable excuses, all at the ready for such an occasion. But to do so is immature and short-sighted. A detached evaluation of what succeeded and what failed is often times the deciding factor in future encounters. Adaptation is frequently just as critical to a successful mission as inherent skill. I excel at detachment, and I excel at adaptation. Anything less would be denying my own survival. My own potential.

Some time before I had ever been to Kyoto, I had lived among others. I always ate, drank, and slept while in the presence of another human being. I had experienced a backlash such as this when I was just a boy, and I knew its familiar ache. Perhaps that was why I so treasured silence now. Perhaps somewhere deep, beyond where I harbored the rational considerations of my ways, I had hoped that the silence would calm the constant motion and calculation in my mind, that it would free me from analyzing every minute detail for just a moment. I had clung to a promise that in this stillness I would experience clarity and purity of mind and soul, like praying at the shrines. Self-reflection among the statues was a solitary undertaking, and I had strived for that parallel in my own life. No involvements with others, no entanglements, a simple life devoted to a cause that would free me from the grinding and screeching of my own inner cogs.

But it did nothing, and my life continued on. The promise withered and hardened into routines and habits that I did not care to break. This vine I had tended had wrapped itself tight and dried in place, and to shatter the brittle bark was unthinkable.

I opened my eyes. Today was just another spoke of the turning wheel, the sun still rising behind the gloomy clouds. In my haze, the somber realization that all my calculations and efforts had failed to this point was perhaps the biggest defeat I could remember admitting in a long time. My instincts were cowed, slinking around to hide under the porch steps to lick my wounded ego. I had never pretended to be a master of understanding people, but then again, never had my own failures been so stark and ugly. Ordinarily, I would be able to place the episode aside and focus my energies on something more practical, more obtainable. Live to the apex of my potential. But I had been blind. In my search for tranquility, I made the mistake of projecting that objective onto a woman. I had made the mistake of eternally binding myself to her, and in a matter of days, I had made the mistake of unbearably exhausting myself from the effort of it all.

I heard her footsteps approaching, far more purposeful than I felt capable of handling now. Me, incapable. The concept would have been laughable had I been facing any foe on nearly any battlefield, even Hitokiri Battousai in his mountain cottage in the wake of the white plum scent. But against this woman, navigating the terrain of domesticity that I had never cared to study, I was faced with the unnerving prospect that I was lost, and any blow she delivered would be fatal.

"Good morning." Her voice was quiet, but the words seemed profound coming from her lips. A courtesy I did not deserve, a grace she had been trained to bestow out of duty.

"Good morning."

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I felt as if I was back in the middle of the dark wood from my hallucinations the night before, leaves rustling all about me. An ambush, pattering feet, the steady, measured breath, a pair of watchful eyes. She was on the offensive, frothing at the mouth. Like a beautiful, dangerous, ravenous wolf.

"No."

"Perhaps your tongue hurts too much too speak? Well, don't worry, I will tell you exactly what I expected to hear! I expected an explanation as to why you came home drunk last night. Why you drink at all when it turns you into such a horrible thing! How a man who believes in a righteous cause can allow himself to transform into the essence of what he is so set against?"

There were things on the tip of my tongue to say – give me time, give me patience, I am on the brink of remembering what I was, what I am, how to be human. Or perhaps, it has been so long, I forgot everything there is except survival. I have perfected continuing on, I have perfected tactics, I have perfected death with dignity. You must understand this has always been my shortcoming. I need time to detach. To adapt. Time to think.

"And why you refuse to speak to me! You come and go without a word, you do nothing but smoke outside silently - what is so difficult about holding a conversation with your wife?"

To say anything would be to say I am afraid.

"What would you like me to say?"

"I'm sorry, perhaps!"

I cannot cross this bridge yet. I do not know the way.

"Well." Her eyes were alive, sparked kindling. She raged with a ferocity that was as comforting and recognizable to me as it was terrifying. I prided myself on never running from a battle, never turning away from my own possible destruction. There was a finality in death, but this held the promise of a darker and more prolonged torment. My instincts awoke briefly, told me flight would not be shameful, that what I faced was more than losing blood to a sword. This time I was facing the swell of a tsunami that is just beginning to build its wall of terror, which could demolish my life and take years to regain. The drums still beat in my mind, echoing my heartbeats as I stood.

"I am sorry, Tokio. If you wanted a perfect man, you married the wrong one."

It was then that I thought I saw the truth. That there was no bridge to cross, that it had all been an illusion, like the Kabuki masks and the dream-eating tapir in her arms, and I was stranded on a windy bluff overlooking the vast sea. Alone, with the wind whispering in my ear, "Aku Soku if it lies within you."

"I didn't have a choice!"The sound of her indignation broke through my confusion, and I felt very heavy, my senses suddenly present and alert as they are at the beginning of a battle. She was falling, the anger on her features from moments before twisting to panic as her foot caught on her clothing. The she-wolf, diminished to a frightened child.

For the first time in her presence, I did not think. My arms opened, a reflex so ingrained in a boy I hardly remembered that it overpowered everything I had taught and trained myself to do in the years since then. A stance of utter altruism, reserved only to capture something cherished. Neither offensive nor defensive, of no use in the life or death of one's self, but instinctive nonetheless to protect another.

Her arms clung to me, her face buried in my chest. I vaguely recalled the other moments I had held her wrist, felt her skin against my forehead, but it had not been like this. She had not needed my strength, my stability, or anything about me, until this very moment. Even after all the scars and punishment I had endured for the Shinsengumi, I felt small in the presence of this unspoken trust. Was this was the answer to my craving, the balance to my own need?

"No. You didn't."

Her emotion had ebbed into a silent tremble, and it reminded me of the disastrous wedding night. Nothing had changed. Behind the bravado, we were still unsteady fledglings, hiding in the shadows of brush from our own carnivorous ways, desperate to take to the air for safety. I leaned down, and kissed her hair. She smelled of summer rain, so forgiving. I could not be angry or petulant anymore. And I sighed, because I could not tell if I had failed again, and I was too tired to care.

When she gained her footing, she did not meet my gaze. I did not press her, feeling emptier than Okita's pottery sake bottle. I needed time, I needed silence. Skirting past her on the porch, I walked inside, my feet and my mind wandering through incongruous landscapes. Somehow I found my way to the bedroom, shut the door, and unrolled a futon. I had hardly laid myself down when my mind raced to the cliff by the sea. The storm had passed, and at my feet were the makings of a bridge.


	13. Illuminate

**Chapter 13: Illuminate**

My second waking was far calmer than the first, and for a moment, I forgot my worries. The gloom had lifted somewhat, and in the distance a woodpecker drilled for insects in sporadic outbursts. The world continued plodding forward while I recovered. Virtue, evil, and indifference were still intact.

I rummaged through my things, finding it odd that the stack of folded Shinsengumi uniforms was so tall. I was used to several missing at a time, as I would pay the woman at the end of the road to scrub the filth from the clothing after a particularly bloody evening. Yet here they lay, spotless and primly placed in an even pile - impressive. I had not expected an official's daughter to be so versed in the witchcraft of washerwomen. Even my sparse collection of hakama had all been refolded and retied. I scowled. I was outmatched in order and cleanliness. I do not like to be outmatched at anything.

I slid the bedroom door open, hearing her absent-mindedly humming in the kitchen. I had no interest in revisiting the conversation from this morning, so I made my way to the front room for a cigarette. The air felt less dense than this morning, almost refreshing, so I stood in the entrance of our home to contemplate the rock path and accompanying garden that I kept reasonably pruned.

When I had purchased the home, the man I had negotiated with had been quite taken with his handiwork. He explained each minute detail, demonstrating his supposed skill and technique. After he finished, I shrugged and flicked my cigarette butt into the ostentatious koi pond. We watched the fish surface to purse their flapping lips at the stub of tobacco, the man wearing a strange look of horror that melted into resignation. These were troubled times, I said. He accepted the low price I offered, and I let him take the koi with him the day I paid him. Then I filled in the pond.

I smoked slowly, letting the burning end inch along like a garden snail. My thoughts turned to Harada, to his uncomfortable expression as he clutched his bottle of sake. I was mildly surprised at my own willingness to doubt, to cave to speculation. For years, I had conditioned myself to only heed the nagging sensation triggered by my own instinct, while ignoring the shadows of suspicion in others eyes. To live the truth of Aku Soku Zan, one has to not just see past the best liars, but surpass them. Give them heartstrings to pluck at like a koto, insecurities to mine like precious gems, and when they are within reach, pull the hidden noose taunt.

The instincts I relied upon knew Harada to be no liar. Genuine fools tended toward genuine honesty. Perhaps this was critical to their survival, as it had an irritating way of endearing them to others. Behind the bluffing, Harada was as plain as hiragana scrawled with charcoal, and that was what I had forgotten. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have seen one of the fundamental rules of human perception in practice. A man who knows the evil in his own heart will find it reflected in the eyes of everyone he meets. Only a salivating philanderer like Harada would accuse Okita of the transgression of defiling a new bride.

I had been unsteady. Between the sparring match at the practice facility, the tense moments with Tokio, and being cut off from the Battousai hunt, I had lost my balance. I could see this now, objectively measuring myself in the sobering light of day, and I would remember. It was done; Saitou Hajime does not repeat mistakes.

She brought my meal in the midst of my musing, before I had even begun pondering how to approach her. Vanishing as quickly as she had appeared, not even alerting me to her presence. Like a mouse, I thought with fleeting disapproval. When she did not return, I found myself somewhat perturbed at the fact that she was breaking her custom of eating with me. The one convincing moment in each day where we appeared to be husband and wife, lost. But the food was well-prepared, so I devoured every last grain of rice while wondering if she was doing the same.

I did not wait for her return, as I still had not determined how to solve the problem that was my marriage. I slipped into the garden, assuming she would keep to herself in her domestic realm. Throughout the afternoon, I waited for the words to come to me. I went through the stretches and practice motions languorously, finding the memorized movements calming as I grappled with my predicament.

I caught sight of a familiar face jogging down the street, heading for the front door. As a general rule, I prefer to avoid shouting – in battle, in heated conversation, or in greeting. Perception is the key to respect, and as third commander, I always wanted my men to see me as level-headed, calculating, even cold. The polar opposite of Harada and Okita. Many found it unnerving - an unblinking stare matched with cool facts and an even cooler blade. Always in control. Always a force to be reckoned with.

So I silently stalked to the front of the house, just as the messenger rapped loudly on the wooden frame. He was just a boy, really, and this irritated me. Boys were sloppy, undedicated allies. Too willing to prove their worth by any means necessary, too eager to be accepted, to be on the winning team. Too young to understand the true nature of the cause.

"Are you trying to announce to the whole neighborhood your whereabouts?"

He jumped visibly at the sound of my voice, spinning unsteadily. I waited, my katana still unsheathed, hanging low in my left hand.

"Saitou-san!" He bowed emphatically several times. "A thousand apologies for interrupting your afternoon."

He was pandering to me like I was the emperor. My annoyance increased.

"Spit it out, then."

"We're off tonight!"

I did not like the sound of that. Changing plans meant half-assed execution. Hurry translated to missed assignments, gaps in positions, and overall anxiety among those who did not exercise constant mental preparation for battle. In other words, nine out of ten of the Shinsengumi, skilled though we were.

"Tonight?" He nodded. "I thought we were talking care of that in three days."

"The plans have changed. You know how things are. He'll only be in Kyoto until tomorrow morning."

I know how things are? The fool was more presumptuous than I thought. I would have to have a word with Nagakura or whoever thought it would be wise to employ him. No matter whose brother, in-law, or cousin he was, he would be stuck polishing the practice room floor when I was done. Traipsing around the streets of Kyoto with all this information – if he was an opponent, I would have gotten every rebel secret from him in a matter of seconds, I could tell. I stared at him for a moment, my face empty.

"Hm. Any word if the Ishin know?"

"No. That's why the meeting was moved last minute. Our spies haven't contacted us which means they're preparing for something. Maybe even tonight. Either way, this meeting has to happen. Oh, Hijikata needs to speak with the commanders beforehand too."

And now he knew the urgency of my missions, my meetings? Loathing did not even begin to capture my anger at that moment.

"Fine," was my clipped response.

"We need to hurry."

"Mm." More like you need to hurry away before I take your spindly chicken legs off at the knee.

Fortunately for my blood pressure, he departed after another series of respectful bows. It took a great deal more self-control than I anticipated not swatting at his Achilles tendon with the flat of my sword as he headed for the street. It is cowardly to strike from behind, even if I had been up against Harada. Regardless, I revived enough from my stupor to emblazon a reminder in my mind to ensure this one had a swift demotion in his future.

I sheathed the katana, the message still leaving a sour taste on my tongue. Some would argue instinct and quick decisions are the foundation great warriors are built upon, but I have learned this can be a danger half the time it is employed. Reaction can never trump anticipation, after all. This felt like a reflexive move, and something drastic must have happened for Kondou to have seen this as necessary. Even less reason to like it.

As I turned to head indoors, I began wondering what Okita would make of the messenger before I remembered. The messenger would not be visiting Okita's home to deliver Kondou's words, nor calling him to the meeting. In fact, it suddenly struck me as curious that Okita was not making the rounds for something so urgent. Why demote him to such a position if not to use him?

With my senses already attuned to danger behind the strange message, Okita's absence of late was even more disconcerting. The unwelcome image of him lying prostrate in a doctor's ward like the one I had visited was nauseating. I considered that I did not know if he even had a family left who might know of his condition, save Hijikata and Kondou. He had never mentioned anyone outside the organization, and unknowingly, I had projected my own solitude upon him. Simply assuming his cheerfulness was a cover to replace his own loneliness did not make it factual. Stepping back into my house, I added locating Okita to my list of tasks to be dealt with in the near term. But first, I had to have this damnable meeting with Hijikata, and with my luck, my favorite noodle vendor would be closed by the time this was finished.

In my preoccupation with the steadily growing list of things I had to accomplish, I lost track of myself and slammed open the door to the kitchen. Tokio jumped from where she was bent over, scrubbing a mixing bowl, her eyes wide and fearful. Several strands of hair had worked themselves loose from the tidy knot in the back of her head, and my imagination clung to them. I had to look away, hating myself for my own lack of self-control. Nothing had changed from the wedding night – I still wanted her, and she could not be more frightened.

My eyes caught the mochi she had stacked in neat little rows, and I let that distract me. That would be enough if Hijikata was indulgent of his usual long-windedness. I was painfully aware then that I had not formulated an apology, or really anything to say to Tokio, and she was still frozen as if her very breathing would shatter this fragile balance.

In that moment, I learned the pain and awkwardness of silence, and I realized precisely what rectifying the situation would require. Say something. Anything.

"I have to leave." It was a poor start. I cursed myself silently. How in the hell did Okita make this seem so effortless? I tried to imagine what he would say, how he would smile. He had that convincing way of smiling with his eyes, even. An invaluable trick, if I had the humility to admit it. Someday I would need to perfect that, but for now, only survival mattered.

"No, no." She moved toward me without raising her gaze from the cakes in my hand, and I wondered if she was pretending I was not there. A curious thought struck me then – did she find my features unlikable? I had never really considered her perspective before; she was my wife, and she had so far lived up to the dutiful domestic presence Takagi had promised. But even as her hand brushed against mine, she seemed distant, preoccupied. "You won't hold yourself on these alone; I'll wrap you some heavier food," she was saying, almost to herself.

I fended off a scowl at the reprimand, still trying to channel a stunted version of Okita's social graces.

"Tonight I'm meeting with Hijikata, to go over plans." It all seemed to terribly mundane. There were things I could not tell her, things she would never understand. My apprehension over this particular meeting and these particular plans, for example. I still could not place what she was – for her moments of timidity contradicted her outburst from this morning, and there were no animals that combined the traits mice and wolves. What sort of a wolf could not comprehend the eagerness of trailing the scent or the rush of the kill? I did not even know if she knew who Hijikata was, and I clutched at that opportunity to abate the growing silence.

"Hijikata is my superior."

"Ah."She still did not look at me. "There, that will be much better."

A neatly wrapped package of dumplings was placed in my hands, and almost instantly she put her back to me as she moved to the last batch of mochi. This was going horribly; any conviction I had that I could repair the damage was quickly draining out of me. And yet the image of her apologizing for her failure, forehead practically touching the ground, was stuck in my memory. I would not have her become bitter as she fulfilled her duties, and lose the last semblance of harmony between us and our contractual partnership.

"It will take all night."

"Are you bringing something to drink?"

"Yes."

"Good. There."

A second, smaller bundle was placed in my palm, and there was nothing left to say. At least tonight I would not have to face her stinging rejection again. I consoled my ego with that thought as I steeled myself for departure in the face of another defeat.

"Do not wait up for me."

I began to head to the front door again when a curious thing happened. Soft footfalls followed me, the short strides delicate and even.

"How dangerous is this going to be?"

The choice of words made me cringe. There was no way of her knowing my doubt; I was not that transparent. Particularly not to someone who hardly spent any substantial time in my presence - of that I was sure.

"Honestly? Hardly worth my time." A prick of guilt at the lie, but better to reassure than open the door to speculate, I supposed. It had slipped easily from my lips, masking my sense of foreboding. I did not like lying to her, but I still did not understand why she was following, what she could possibly want from me. The uncertainty was wearing at my assurance.

"Even so, I will still worry-" She trailed off, and I felt my blood run cold, then flush on my cheeks. When she did not have to look me in the eyes, she was a different animal.

"Worry?" I managed to parrot, lost. "Ehh… well…" From Okita, concern would have been commonplace, easily ignored. From her, I did not grasp the concept and became fixated on it. She seemed to have caught herself off guard as well, for she did not interrupt my stuttering. Did she think it her duty to worry over me? It occurred to me there were precious few that walked the streets in Kyoto who would even notice if something terrible befell me. This was not like my skill with a katana, which I had earned through many hours of practice and discipline. This courtesy was given without my deserving, and it would be unconscionable to ignore it. Why did I constantly feel engulfed in the need to find her acceptance? "If you must."

I was so intent on my escape, I lost my sense of where she was until the sensation of her hand on my sleeve and a breathless call to wait froze me in place. All it took was the sight of her small hand on my arm, and my thoughts evaporated. I was no longer a captain in the Shinsengumi, a skilled swordsman, an aloof, unreadable mask of a person. I was reduced to the heart beating in my chest, to mere echoes of my thoughts, and to the feel of her body against my side as she stood on her toes. In a moment of clarity, I was immersed in the full light of the stirred feelings when I saw her that first time, standing on the balcony. I dared not move, as if I had caught a butterfly in my hand and clenching my fingers a fraction would destroy the delicate beating wings.

Her lips brushed my cheek, cool and gentle, and I cursed Hijikata and his damn meetings. I wanted to turn, to press against her, catch her trembling lips with my teeth. "Please be safe," she whispered, and I wanted to brush back the unruly strands of hair I pictured still framing her face, bury my face against her skin and inhale the intoxicating scent that surrounded her. More than anything, I wanted to look in her eyes and see my thoughts mirrored in them. I wanted reciprocity, always, the unspoken promise now in her words and actions. I wanted to be found worthy, to have her lips to touch my cheek again. But if I asked or demanded, she would curl up like a hedgehog, and I would lose this ground I had somehow crossed. No, she had crossed.

Her hand was lingering on my sleeve, and it was almost more than I could bear. I mumbled an inarticulate response, gently pulling myself away. I walked down the steps without looking back. I did not want to, for in my mind her hand still delicately rested on my arm and I never stepped from her reach.

**A/N:** It's been a long time since I got back in the game, so I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you for reading.


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